Switching Tracks
by LizD
Summary: Reposted By Request Complete Alternate Ending to Season Nine
1. Default Chapter

Title: **Switching Tracks**

Chapter One

By: LizD

Spoilers: Alternate Ending to Season Nine – Spoilers Though The Death of Sadik

Notes: Written before the last five shows of Season Nine Aired

Written: April/May 2004

**Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.**

Switching Tracks

1618 ZULU – Tuesday, March 30, 2004

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, VA

Harm knocked on Mac's doorframe and asked quickly, "Do you have the Letterman file?"

She was staring out the window, lost in thought. "What?" she turned and her expression changed when she saw it was Harm.

Harm had seen that look before – a lot recently – but he was hard pressed to figure out how to read it. It wasn't soft or hard, it wasn't happy, sad or annoyed. If he had to make a guess it was expectant or curious or maybe just wary. Whatever it was, it was just for him.

Mac had been dealing with a lot since that incident with Sadik. Harm chided himself for not being more supportive, but she didn't seem to want his 'support' so he tried to treat her as he normally would under other circumstances – that didn't seem to work either. After the Corporal Strange courts martial where she apologized – in open court – and he accepted, Harm and Mac hadn't shared much more than the standard 'hello's and 'good-bye's, and some very civil office talk over the conference room table. Neither had been assigned to work on a case together or as opposing counsel. Harm assumed that was the admiral's way of keeping the peace. There were a couple of group lunches and a very enlightening celebration dinner for Jennifer, but aside from a few glances, some nice smiles that could be interpreted one of a hundred ways and some casual chitchat – she didn't approach him. And Harm, though not strictly avoiding her, didn't approach her – professionally or personally.

In the past month or more – actually it had been growing exponentially since his return from Paraguay; Harm had done a lot of thinking about the past, the present and the future. Certain truths were made painfully obvious to him – as if the ton of bricks that apparently needed to fall on him finally dropped; while other truths were still too out of focus to see. Though he wasn't totally resolved, he had made some decisions and others were made for him. His new goal was to accept the ones he couldn't or shouldn't attempt to change, and to be clear about the ones he should. This new outlook on life was actually not as hard as he expected it to be, but it wasn't as easy as throwing a switch either. He had to admit, it seemed a lot easier to get through a day and he slept better at night.

He asked her again, "The Letterman courts martial file, do you still have it?"

"Bud is making copies."

"I'll check with him, thanks," he flashed a smile. "As you were," he added playfully.

"As I was what?" she didn't know what possessed her to say that. It would mean that she was inviting him to stay and talk. Truth be told, she missed him. For over a month he was being very … nice to her. He wasn't sarcastic or caustic, he didn't go out of his way to jib or jab at her. In fact he had pretty much stayed out of her way. The only thing she did notice was that often he would be looking at her from across the room, or the table or wherever they were. When she caught him, he made no attempt at hiding the fact. He would simply smile slightly and turn back to whatever he was supposed to be doing. It didn't unnerve her; it made her curious. "As I was what?" she repeated.

This time he just smiled and walked away. That made her curious too.

Later that afternoon, Harriet met Mac in the bullpen. "Colonel, this just came for you," Harriet handed her an envelope.

"Thank you," Mac opened it and pulled out a note and what looked like a ticket envelope.

"Taking a trip, ma'am?" Harriet asked.

"I'm," Mac sighed. "Much needed few days off."

"You won't be going alone," Harriet became immediately embarrassed. "I mean; I only see one ticket."

"I won't be alone," Mac still didn't feel comfortable talking about her relationship with Clay in that forum – heck in any forum. She didn't like talking about him with her shrink.

"Mr. Webb?" Harriet just couldn't stop herself.

Mac looked up and noticed that Harm was watching her from Turner's doorway.

"Thank you Harriet," Mac said and walked toward Harm. When she got close enough, she lowered her voice, "Do you have something to say, commander?" she challenged.

He shook his head. "I hope you have a very nice time. No one deserves a little R&R more than you," Sturgis was off the phone and called Harm's name. Harm turned back to him and started talking about the Letterman case.

Mac walked back to her office confused. Harm hadn't denied eavesdropping, but it wasn't like him to NOT make a comment about the trip or her companion. Something was wrong. Mac was going to find out what.

That evening, Harm was working late on some files. Mattie had a 'date' with her new boyfriend – who Harm didn't dislike as much as he thought he would – so he was killing time before he went home. Mac knocked and entered.

"Hi," she said as casually as a woman on a mission could muster.

"Hi," he returned easily. "Something I can do for you?"

"No, I mean, yes. Well…" She looked at him for a moment before she spoke. "You and I are friends, right?"

"I like to think so."

She remained standing. "Even after everything we have been through this past year?"

He leaned back in his chair and tossed his pen on his desk. "I would say especially after everything we have been through these past eight years."

"So what is going on?" she fixed her gaze on him.

"Going on?" he repeated.

"You're being … I don't know … different."

"How so?" he thought he was being nice.

"I don't know how to describe it. You're being …"

"Nice?" he offered.

"Yeah," she smiled nervously. "What's up with that?"

He laughed and she laughed with him. His expression got a serious. "You deserve to be treated nicely, Mac," he said calmly.

"Since when?" she was annoyed thinking that he was patronizing her. "I mean, what changed?"

He chuckled a little. "Wow, never thought I would have to defend -."

"It's not you," she stated a little too adamantly. "It's not like you."

"I'm trying to be … better," he explained sincerely.

She shook her head, urging him to continue.

He adjusted his position and sighed. He wasn't really prepared to have a BIG conversation, but he forced himself to continue. "I have been doing some thinking – some reevaluating about … things."

"What things?" she asked.

"Me, I guess. Mostly," he looked back at her. "I didn't like what I saw so…"

"There was nothing wrong with you," she claimed a little too quickly and tried to recover, "Why … how … what did you need to change?"

He shook his head and sat up.

She felt like she was prying. "You don't have to tell me anything that you don't feel comfortable telling me."

"I'll tell you anything you want to know, Mac," he said quickly. He didn't mean it as challenging as it came out, but he would have answered any question she asked, truthfully. Any question.

Mac felt the weight of his offer. She needed to be very careful about what she asked. She thought for a long moment. "So can I assume that Mattie is responsible for this change?"

He shrugged a half acceptance of that question. "She has had a huge impact on my life – no doubt," Harm looked away. "In none of the ways I thought she would."

"What does that mean?"

He studied her for a moment before he spoke. "I thought I was taking her in to help her. Turns out, I was helping myself," he looked slightly embarrassed.

"I imagine you have been very good for her too," Mac had spent very little time trying to understand Harm and Mattie's relationship and at the moment she realized exactly how much she didn't know. If truth were told, she was probably a little jealous of Mattie. Here this fifteen-year-old girl who blew on to the scene when Mac wasn't looking; got Harm to do what Mac had never been able to do – commit.

"It has been good for both of us," he added. "I don't want to lose her."

"Lose her?" she asked.

"The judge only gave her to me for six months; it's almost up. Her father has been making a huge effort to get his life together and he will want her back."

"Does Mattie want to go back?"

"I don't think it will be up to either me or Mattie," he said sadly.

"You won't lose touch with her though."

"No, of course not," he looked back down at his desk. "I'm still trying to buy a house, so she will have a place to stay – if only for visits," he looked back up at her. "But who knows, maybe the judge will not send her back."

"I hope it works out for you, Harm."

"I hope it works out for all of us," he said including her.

She knew it but chose not to respond to that. She still had doubts about exactly how her life was going to turn out. "So what You're saying is that parenthood has brought out your nicer side?"

He smiled at that. "No."

"Then what?" she pushed.

"I don't understand what you want me to say."

"You don't have to say anything, I just wanted to make sure that – we were – you know -."

"Still friends?" he offered.

She shrugged a 'yes.'

"Mac, I consider you one of a select few people who are essential in my life."

Mac was stunned at his word usage. "Essential?"

"I have said it before – I don't ever want to lose you," he got a little choked up. "I forgot that this past year. I forgot that I could – through no one's fault but my own."

Again words failed her. Luckily (or not) – her phone rang. "Excuse me," she pulled her phone out and saw who was calling. She got up and went to the doorway. "Hi. … I did, thank you. …No, it's perfect. I haven't skied in years," she laughed a little and looked back at Harm quickly and then away. "Can I call you back later? … Sure … Ok. … Bye," she hung up.

"You could have taken that, Mac," he stated confidently.

"You know who it was?" she asked.

"I'm assuming it was your companion for your rendezvous."

"You have nothing to say to that?" she asked guardedly.

"Do you mean am I going to make some snide, caustic, nasty remark about your choice of companions?" he said playfully.

"It's not unheard of for you."

"Not this time."

Mac was surprised. Harm not making a comment about anything to do with her and another man? I could only mean that lost interest. "I see," she started to turn away and was thinking about a way to retreat.

"Do you?" he pulled her back with the gentleness of his voice.

"I think so."

He shook his head a little. "I'm not sure you do."

His voice again pulled her back into their conversation. She stepped back into his office and waited for him to continue.

"I supposed I should tell you this, because you will think a hundred wrong things if I don't," he laughed and she didn't. "I care about you very much, Sarah. I want you to be happy. I hope you get everything you want in life." He tried to say the next bit as if he truly believed it. "If Clayton Webb can help you to be happy, so be it."

She was blown away. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know," he swallowed hard. "I don't want to lose what we have – what I hope we still have – over the man in your life."

"This is a different side of you," she wanted to add that she liked it.

"It was pointed out to me, by a very wise, very young female that I was being a hypocrite."

"Hypocrite? Mattie said that?" she was shocked.

"It was amazing to hear that word come out of her mouth and how dead on she was."

"You talked to Mattie about us – me?"

"She actually talked to me."

"I don't understand," Mac sat back down.

"It didn't start out that way," he ran his tongue over his teeth trying to find the right words. "Mattie has a boyfriend. So I had 'the talk' with her."

"You told her about the birds and the bees – would've loved to have been a fly on that wall."

Harm laughed. "Ha… yeah… no, the education system deals with all the technical parts in health class and stressed the importance of 'safe sex' and God know the movies and TV are all over the 'joys of sex'. But it's amazing how much kids still don't get. That is still the parents' job."

"So what did you tell her?"

"I talked to her about respect."

"Respect?"

"It was pretty close to the same lecture my mother gave me, one of the thousand times she said it."

"What did you say?"

"I talked to her about how important it was to respect yourself as well as anyone that you would enter into a relationship with. That peer pressure and hormones were working against her, that her body would want her to do things that emotionally would be better left for a later time in life. Her friends and her boyfriend – more than likely – would push her to do something that her own better judgment would counsel her not to do. I told her that she needed to respect herself enough to make the right decisions and not get carried away in the moment and to choose friends and boyfriends who are worthy of her respect and would return it. And finally, before she made any choice to be sure – be very sure, because one wrong decision could impact her whole life."

"Wow," Mac was impressed. "That is quite a bit to swallow. Do you think she understood what you meant?"

"I hope so. It seemed like she was hearing me," he shook his head. "But I don't know. I also told her that I would support her decisions 100%, that she could talk to me about anything and I wouldn't judge her."

"Wish someone had said that to me," she looked up at him. "I never expected that you would be so open minded."

"I'm not," he smirked. "I will kill the first guy that tries anything with her."

She laughed with him. "That sounds more like you."

"But, the truth of the matter is that I wanted her to know that I love her first, last and always – regardless of anything else. And that I will be there for her."

Mac smiled at him. "You're a good man, Harmon Rabb."

He shook his head and looked away. "Sometimes."

"How did she take this little lecture of yours?"

"It wasn't a lecture, it was more of a discussion, and - ," he looked down. "She turned the tables on me."

"How do you mean?"

"She asked me if I was so smart about relationships, why did I never get married."

"Oh," Mac felt her stomach tense. This was either going to be the part when he told her that he wasn't interested in her anymore or that he still was. Neither of which she wanted to hear and both of which she was terrified NOT to hear.

"And she asked about you," Harm continued.

"I'm glad I wasn't there for that part of the discussion," she deflected with a nervous laugh.

He looked at her puzzled. "Mac, what do you think I would say that you couldn't hear?"

"I don't know."

"What do you imagine I think about you?"

She thought for a moment. "I don't know, I often can't tell with you."

"Well, I guess I can understand that."

"We don't often talk about … well talk about anything," she defended.

"No, no we don't," he sighed. "Well let me clear it up for you," he again sat up in his chair so she knew he was speaking sincerely. "There is no one that I respect or admire more. You're the smartest woman – hell smartest person I know. You're capable and strong. You're tenacious and you're ability to bounce back from the tragedies that occur in your life amazes and inspires me. I trust you implicitly in every way. Your instincts about people are 100%," he paused, thinking that she might respond. She didn't. "And the fact that all of that is rolled up in an easy-on-the-eyes package in a person I call my friend is icing on the cake."

She was a little stunned and hung on to the one thing she could articulate. "My instincts are 100%?"

"With the possible exception of me – but I take that fault on myself," he flashed a smile. "With you I seem to go out of my way to be …."

"Ambiguous?" she offered.

"Contradictory. I know we don't agree on most things, and I do – I did go out of my way to play the devil's advocate just to get you going. And it's fun – used to be fun – to find ways to dig at you cause you gave as well as you took," he shrugged. "But that kind of fun only lasts so long. Just because the two of us can look at the same thing differently doesn't mean that one of us is right and the other wrong. It's not a contest."

Mac laughed. "OK – where's the camera; and what have you done with Harm?"

"You can laugh if you want. But all that is true."

"I'm not sure about that," she was still laughing.

"Yes you do, Sarah," he fixed his eyes on her. "If you thought that I thought anything less of you, we wouldn't be friends after all this time."

Mac's smile faded from her face. She got serious too. "Friends."

"Maybe more than friends," he added.

"Family?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think of you as family," he paused for a moment. "And sometimes people take family for granted. I don't want to do that anymore – not with you."

Her eyes started to tear up. She brushed them away before they had a chance to fall.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he said softly.

"You still shock me sometimes," she brushed her emotions aside. "So how were you being a hypocrite?"

"Oh yeah," he sat back. "Mattie - she challenged me – she'll make a great lawyer. I told her what I just told you and she said - and I will quote – 'if you really think that, why are you trying to change her.' That's when she called me a hypocrite."

"How did she think that you were trying to change me?"

"Your choice of men," he said flatly.

'_Oh, God_.' Mac thought. '_Here it's_.' She was only able to utter a single syllable. "Oh?"

"I of course said that I wasn't trying to change you – that all those OTHER guys were the ones trying to change you and half way through my argument I realized I didn't have a leg to stand on. It hit me – hard – that if I honestly believed that you were smart and capable with great instincts – what on earth made me think that you weren't capable of choosing the person you wanted to be with. The MAN you wanted to be with," he paused. "Mattie, in her own black and white view of the world, showed me that I don't have to see what you see in the men you pick – or what she sees in her boyfriend - I just have to trust and believe that you know what is best for you."

Mac tried to say something but didn't know what to say.

He kept talking – he was on a roll now. "Since we are talking about that, I need to apologize to you."

"Apologize?" she smiled through her tears. "What heinous thing have you done now?"

"This is old," he paused for a moment. "I'm sorry about Brumby."

"Harm," she shook her head. That whole mess was too long ago to bring up now.

"Let me say this. I have been thinking about it recently – in light of your relationship with Webb and – I need to apologize. I never should have gotten between you two. I never should have challenged your feelings for him. It was very disrespectful to you and selfish and wrong. I tried to stay out of it for as long as I could – but that night at the admiral's house – I just couldn't keep my mouth shut."

She laughed slightly remembering the way he kissed her and no, he didn't keep his mouth shut. "Don't take all the blame on yourself, Harm. You couldn't have interfered if I hadn't let you."

"That may be true or it may not be. But I was still wrong, and I'm sorry. You chose to marry him and I should have respected that. You wouldn't have made that decision lightly. You deserved more from me. Nothing like that will ever happen again."

She smiled trying to hide the tears that would not go away. "So I can tell Clay You're happy for us?" That didn't come out the way she thought it would.

Harm shivered at the sound of his name on her lips and knowing what all that entailed. It was clear to all that he didn't like the idea that she and the spy that nearly killed her were together. "As I said, I believe that You're the best and only person to make the right decisions for you." He swallowed hard. "If you have chosen Webb," he couched. "I can accept that." It was the first time he said it out loud, but it actually sounded like he meant it.

"I don't believe this is you saying this."

"Pretty progressive, aren't I?" He laughed quickly and then got serious. "But if I want to remain in your life, I need to respect your choices," he waited until she looked up at him. "And I do want to remain in your life, Sarah."

She didn't know how to respond. She had to stop this flow of open honesty. "Mattie brought all this on?" she asked.

"Mattie, a lot of time by myself and …" He said under his breath. "A fortune cookie."

"What?"

"Doesn't matter," he smiled at her. "It's mostly Mattie. Trying to teach a fifteen year old the difference between right and wrong is a challenge. It's like holding up a mirror. Nothing gets by her."

"'Do as I say not as I do' doesn't fly with her."

"Won't even get you off the ground," he acknowledged.

She watched him for a moment not sure how to proceed. She finally stood up and let out a deep breath that she had been holding. "Well, I certainly got more than I bargained for coming down here tonight."

"Did I say too much?"

She shook her head. "No, not at all. If anyone heard you, they wouldn't believe it."

"Well …" he cocked his head. "Time for a new leaf."

"New leaf – hell, it's a whole new tree."

He laughed.

She continued. "I need to go," she turned away and then turned back. "Thank you."

"For what?" he stood and walked toward the door.

"For being so open with me," she smiled. "For being my friend."

"First, last and always, Sarah MacKenzie," he nodded. "You can take that to the bank."

"Same here," she confirmed. "How late are you staying?" she asked trying to figure a way out of there.

"Hour or so. Mattie won't be home until 2200."

"Ok," she smiled weakly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right. Night."

She nodded and walked slowly down the hall.

Harm watched after her until she was out of sight. When he was sure she was gone, his whole body sunk. Every muscle un-tensed and he slumped into the chair she was just in. He dropped his face into his hands and wiped his eyes. The conversation was probably one of the hardest things he ever had to do. He was exhausted. He meant what he said – or was trying very hard to mean it, but he wanted to say so much more. Did he say too much? Did he say too little? Now that that was over – it would be playing over and over in his head like a broken record and he would think of the hundred or so other things he wanted to say but didn't and beating himself up over the things he said that he shouldn't have. How do you let someone go, hoping that they will not leave? Well the fact that he never had her in the first place made this move inevitable.

He got up and tried to go back to work.

0623 ZULU – Wednesday, March 31, 2004

MacKenzie Residence

Georgetown, VA

Mac wasn't sleeping. She was staring at the ceiling her mind wandering over a thousand different topics, but mostly over her conversation with Harm. She hadn't had a chance to process it all. When she got home, Webb was there, waiting for her. He wasn't drunk but he had had a few drinks. He was feeling very amorous. Mac would have preferred to be alone, but he was too hard to dismiss when he had been drinking.

So there she was at one o'clock in the morning berating her self for doing something that she didn't want to do. What had Harm said about peer pressure compelling women to have sex when they really didn't want to? Guess that didn't stop at adulthood. She tried to convince herself that it was different for her. Now that she was in a relationship, it was about give and take and compromise. But again, Mac felt like the only one giving and making compromises. She dismissed the thoughts as just being tired – over tired.

Her mind wandered back to Harm's words. This time it was about another conversation that they had, the one on the admiral's porch. He had said other things to her that night – probably more true to his opinion than what he said to her earlier. He accused her of going with any man that shows a little interest. Was that true? Had she ever been with anyone that didn't pursue her? It was hard to know what the motivation was with Chris; everything was drenched in alcohol. Mic pursued her relentlessly, so did Dalton and even Farrow to a point. But wasn't it normal for the man to pursue the woman? Isn't that the expectation of society? Harm was the only man she met that showed any interest in her that didn't pursue her – well pursue her in the way a normal man would.

Webb mumbled in his sleep and it annoyed her. She was probably disturbing him. If she were ALONE … She slipped out of bed, pulled on some sweats and went to the living room to be find the solitude she wanted.

She thought back to Mic and her time with him. Often she would get up from their bed too. Maybe it was just her. She did love Mic, didn't she? Love him enough to marry him? He was persistent enough. And he said he loved her – over and over again and she returned the sentiment. One question had always nagged at her; he asked her one night if she loved him because he loved her. She denied it at the time, but was that true? It was very hard to resist a man so verbal about his feelings, so willing to give up everything just to be with her. But, maybe he was right. What did they truly have? They had had a couple of dates before he went back to Australia, but she wasn't serious about him. After Sydney, she was all of a sudden in a long distance relationship with him, then without warning he showed up on her doorstep bag and baggage, and then they were engaged and then they weren't. She couldn't even remember making the choice – heck making any choices. Where exactly did it all start?

It started long before Sydney, but that was the crossroads. It really wasn't like she had two men to choose from, but in hindsight that is what it looked like. She approached Harm, he said no, Mic approached her, and she didn't say no. It was as simple as that. What if Harm hadn't rejected her that night? Did he really reject her? No, but Mic was offering so much more than Harm ever had. Would he have? Would Harm have ever stepped up to the plate? It's impossible to know. She didn't choose Mic over Harm then, it was a friendship ring. If Harm were interested, he could have made his feelings known. Or could he have? Now – with the benefit of hindsight – she was sure Harm saw her wearing the ring – right or left hand – was a decision. How differently things might have turned out if she hadn't. Maybe she and Harm could have eased into a relationship. Maybe Mic would have allowed her to fall in love with him – slowly. Mic gave up his career and his country for her – how could she not love him back? But as it was, Mic wanted it all. Was that Mac's choice? She had to own it was. She chose not to send Mic home. She chose not to be alone. She chose to love Mic. And she chose to let her feelings for Harm get in the way of her relationship with Mic. Yes, those were all her choices. Were these the same decisions that Harm was speaking about 'respecting' and 'supporting'? She had to laugh. "I don't think so," she said softly to herself.

She got up and got some water. She wanted to be alone in her house. She wanted take a bath and watch a movie on late night TV. But Clay hated that kind of noise, particularly in the middle of the night. She went to the window and watched the wind blowing through the trees.

Harmon Rabb. What a piece of work he was. A better friend she could never hope to find, but there was so much other crap between them – good and bad. Could they ever really be the friends they were? She still believed – no matter what leaf he turned over – that they weren't destined to be … mated. But a friendship was a possibility. Or not. Wouldn't other relationships interfere and alter how they dealt with each other? More than likely. And as much as Harm claimed that he would support her 'choice' of Clay – or anyone else, she knew that he really didn't mean it – but maybe he did. So did that mean his other feelings for her were gone? She purposely avoided asking him how he felt about her. In the past it had netted her nothing, but during their last conversation, she probably would have gotten more than she asked for. What about her own feelings for him? She hadn't thought much about them in quite a while – since Paraguay, well since actually the hearing for Mattie's custody. She believed what she said – he is the type of man that she would want to raise children with. She laughed at her self – the TYPE of man, but not THE man.

Why not? In the two years between Mic and Paraguay, they had found their friendship again. Again, they could have eased into a relationship – and it looked like it was heading that way. The night she told him about the mission, he started to approach her. She cut him off at the knees and tossed it back in his face. As she thought about it now, it wasn't true that Harm only showed interest in her when she had one foot out the door. The fact was, she had only opened the door once for him, and when he hesitated she slammed it shut and kept it locked. That was also her choice. Her decision. Funny – after all that time she was blaming Harm. Thinking that he was the one who couldn't commit, when in reality it was she. Or maybe it was just they – as a couple that didn't work.

It didn't matter anymore. Paraguay and Sadik happened. Mac lost and found more than she ever thought possible. She would never be the same again. Oh she would learn to live with it – with what happened, with what she did. Harm and she would be friends – but maybe not best friends. And she now had Clay. Clay was there to help her through it – or at least lived through it with her from beginning to end.

She thought about Clay – the man passed out in her bed – and what he brought to her life. She had never really thought of him as a lover or a person to build a life with before. He was a spy, a spook, someone who would be gone for weeks on end with no communication and would show up out of nowhere. It was exotic, exciting, romantic – in a spy novel sort of way. He wasn't like Mic. He didn't gush all over her. He respected her as a marine and a woman almost to a fault. With the exception of taking the brunt of Sadik's torture, he never hesitated to put her life on the line. He trusted in her abilities. He treated her as she wanted to be treated, not like some damsel in distress. He didn't need to be with her 24/7. He didn't demand all her time and attention. And she liked that.

They rarely talked about work – his or hers – because they came at it with two different agendas. There was no question that he did things in his line of work that Mac would never want to know about. He had to compromise his morals. Similar to what she had to do with Sadik – but she didn't like it and really didn't want to get used to it. She was Marine trained: pride, honor, integrity, duty … these weren't the credos of the CIA. In the grand scheme of life, there was a need for both kinds – especially with all the turmoil that was going on in the world – but could these two make a life together?

Clay had made some innuendos about them living together, an off the cuff comment about what their kids would look like, something about growing old together – but he never really made those intentions clear. Mac did want to marry someday – soon. She did want to have children. Was Clay really the man to build that kind of life with? Did he measure up to the kind of man she envisioned marrying? The answer to that was a decided: no. But did she love him enough to over look those failings?

"Sarah?" Clay called from the bedroom.

"Out here," she called back. She hadn't realized it but it was almost dawn.

Clay stumbled out of the bedroom. "Water – aspirin," he said holding his head looking like the night after a frat party. Clay was doing more than drinking, he had been taking some very strong sleeping pills, but they still only lasted for about four to six hours.

"Sit down, I'll get it," she got up.

"Coffee," he called after her.

She came back in moments with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. Clay tried to open the bottle but couldn't do it. Without a word she took it from him, opened it and portioned two pills into her hand and gave them to him. He motioned for two more. He swallowed them and drained the glass.

"Thanks baby," he croaked. "Coffee?"

"It will be a minute," she resumed her seat on the coach.

"When did you get up?" he yawned and wiped his hands across his face trying to get is eyes to focus.

"A while ago."

"You OK?" he looked at her for the first time since he got up. "Dreams?"

"No. Didn't sleep enough to have dreams."

"You really need to take what I'm taking; it'll put a rhino down."

"No, thanks."

"Come on, Mac," he craned his neck. "You need your rest. It's not like You're going to get addicted, or anything."

The only thing that Clay did that Mac just couldn't abide was ignore her alcoholism. He would always ask her if she wanted a drink or a glass of wine and assumed that one wouldn't be an issue. She had to be on her guard with him and that made her very uncomfortable. "I missed my run last night, that's all," she shook her head.

He got up and joined her on the couch. "Didn't I give you enough of a work out?" he asked trying to kiss her.

She turned her face away. "Clay – don't."

"What?"

She wanted to tell him how unattractive he was in the morning. How a hangover from either drugs or alcohol wasn't something she wanted to get used to. How being coerced into bed by a man who smelled of scotch and slurred his protestations of love wasn't what she had in mind when she got into a relationship with him. "Just don't."

"You didn't say that last night."

"Maybe I should have." She actually had but gave up.

"I see," he leaned back. "What is going on, Sarah?"

"Nothing," she got up to get the coffee. "I'm just tired."

Clay shook his head and waited for the fight. To be prepared he retrieved his clothes from the bedroom and got dressed.

In the weeks since she killed Sadik and they started sleeping together, they hadn't had much quality time to spend together to talk. That was what the weekend away was supposed to make up for. He had been away a lot and working a lot of nights. The time they did spend was intense and passionate. The events of the night previous weren't new to the changed relationship. He often would come over late, they would go to bed and make love (it was more like sex), talk briefly but seriously before they fell asleep and he would get up in the morning and go – usually before she was awake. That morning she was up. Their relationship had gone from casual dating with an occasional kiss good night to very intensely sexual with not really much transition between. It seemed that before she invited him into her bed, he couldn't find time for her and after – he found enough to 'stop by' at least three of four times a week.

Mac understood – rather she tried to understand. He was busy. She was busy. They were busy people. It's hard to find time to spend together when each worked such odd hours. She told herself that she loved him and that this was only temporary, but she didn't truly believe it.

She came back with the coffee but didn't sit down. "Will I see you before Thursday night?" she asked like a needy girlfriend. She hated it when she sounded like that.

"Thursday?" he was confused.

"We are flying to Vermont? Skiing? You, me and four uninterrupted days together?"

His faced washed with regret. "About that."

"What now?"

"I have to go out of the country. I won't be back until Saturday – late."

She looked away.

"But look, I tell you what. You go and I will meet you there."

She shook her head. "Clay – no."

"I'm sorry. I really am. It came up last night – spur of the moment thing. I'm actually leaving in…" He checked his watch. "Three hours."

"I understand."

"Do you?'

"I do," she looked back at him and put a fake smile on her face. "I really do," she actually did, but his total lack of concern for her feelings about the matter pissed her off.

He pulled her down next to him. "I have been thinking."

At that moment, she didn't believe that he thought about her at all except at night. But she was just 'in a mood.'

"Seriously. We would get to spend a lot more time together if we worked together."

"Meaning what?"

"Well – I have never worked with a partner, but -- ."

"No."

"You haven't even thought about it. I could put in a -."

"No," she looked at him amazed that he would bring up such an idea. "I can't believe you would ask me that."

"Sarah, you're a natural. You have saved my butt more than twice. With your language skills and training …"

She got up and moved away from him. "Stop it, Clay."

"I think you should think about it. You aren't going any where at JAG, why not switch tracks?"

"Clay – don't miss your plane."

"Sarah, honey …" He got up and followed her to where she was standing. "Come on, we would be a hell of a team."

She resisted his embrace. "You haven't been paying attention to me at all have you? You just don't listen. Or is it that you just don't care to see anything beyond your own needs."

"I thought about your needs last night," he again tried to pull her to him and kiss her.

"Get off me Webb," she shoved him away. "Have you changed or did I just never really know who you were?"

"OK, Ok ... I guess I brought that subject up too soon," he checked his watch again. "I'm sorry, baby, but I really have to go."

"Go," she hated to be called 'baby' and she had told him that a number of times.

"I'm sorry about this weekend," he pulled the ticket out of his pocket. "Go with someone else," he dropped it on the coffee table. "You know, like Harriet – make it a girls' weekend. On me. The room is paid for."

"Thanks," she was livid and getting angrier. She just wanted him gone.

"I'll call you."

"Sure."

He kissed her cheek and shook his head. "Sarah," he waited for her to look at him. "Sarah."

"What?"

"I love you."

"Have a safe trip."

He nodded and left.

She immediately went in to take a shower. She caught her reflection in the mirror. She had never seen herself looking so angry. The epitome of the expression 'fit to be tied.' As the steam filled the room and her reflection started to haze over she laughed at her self. "You have no one to blame but yourself, MacKenzie. This was your choice. Instincts … 100 percent …" she grumbled.

1210 ZULU – Wednesday, March 31, 2004

Rabb Residence

North of Union Station

Harm was making breakfast – he didn't look happy.

Mattie poked her head in. "Morning Harm. Later Harm. Gotta go."

"No, you don't!" He bellowed before she had a chance to close the door.

"Yes, I do. Late for school."

"And You're going to be a little bit later," he fixed her with a withering stare. "We need to have a discussion."

She came in and closed the door behind her. "A discussion about what?"

"About what a curfew means."

"Harm, come on," she whined. "I was a little late."

"You were more than an hour and a half late."

"I was in bed at – what like – 11:30?"

"Closer to midnight," he corrected.

"It might have been – but I'm young I don't need as much sleep as an old guy like you," she tried to laugh it off.

"Mattie, when we agreed that you would be home at 10 o'clock on a school night – I expected that we both knew what that meant."

"I was home – we were outside talking – JUST TALKING."

"I know where you were and I know what you were doing – that is the only reason the police weren't called."

"So if it bothered you so much, why didn't you come down and get me – or hell, call my cell phone?"

"Because I expected you to show better judgment."

"Fine. I'm sorry. It won't happen again," she was annoyed. "Can I go?"

"You're grounded for two weeks."

"What? You can't do that?"

"I can and I have."

"Since when did you become judge, jury and executioner?"

"Since you agreed to let me be your guardian," he put two plates down on the table and motioned for her to sit and eat.

She sat, but made no attempt to eat. "TWO WEEKS?"

"No phone, no internet - except for home work - and no TV. You will be in your room immediately after school and you will not leave."

"Jesus Christ – I was only talking!" She pleaded.

"Language."

"Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?"

"Mattie!" He shook his head. "I have known sailors who would cringe to hear the way you talk."

"What are you talking about – you're a sailor and you cringe when I talk."

"Mattie – enough."

"I don't need you to lay down the law with me, commander."

"I'm afraid you do."

"I'm fifteen years old and was taking care of myself just fine until you came along."

"Were you?"

"I was."

"Mattie You're a kid. You should act like a kid for as long as you can – pretty soon, you won't have the luxury."

"You aren't going to pull that old 'while You're living under my roof' crap are you?"

"No," Harm dropped his fork the plate. He was so frustrated he could scream. "Do you want to know why I'm so upset?"

"Enlighten me."

"Because I thought we had trust. And you abused that trust."

Mattie rolled her eyes and looked away.

"We set down the rules Mattie. You and I together came up with the rules. Now I get to enforce them and you get to follow them. But don't for one minute think that this is some arbitrary – thing on my part."

She didn't respond.

"If I can't trust you to come home when you say you will, how am I supposed to trust you about anything else?"

"You can trust me," she looked back at him.

"Evidence to the contrary," he stated. "Mattie, You're a very smart kid. But You're still a kid."

"You were traipsing through the jungles of Viet Nam when you were my age," she tossed back at him.

"You aren't me, and I'll tell you a little secret – I had no business being there," he got very serious. "I lost more than I found on that trip and I don't want you to make the same mistake."

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't about me. This is about you. About you testing my limits and checking your boundaries. I understand that. This morning you discovered that I mean what I say and I say what I mean," he exhaled. "You should have known that already."

Mattie relented. She was actually pushing her limits with Harm – not consciously of course, but the way a kid tests her parents. "I did," she said softly. "I did know that."

"So we understand each other?"

"Yes."

"Good. Eat your breakfast – now that it's ice cold."

She laughed and picked up her fork. "Do I have to?"

He looked up at her and she stuffed a fork full of cold scrambled eggs into her mouth.

"Did you have a nice time last night?" he asked after a stiff moment of silence.

"Yeah, it was fun. Conrad is a nice guy."

"Good."

"Not sure his company was worth two weeks of solitary confinement," she laughed.

"Well, you will have plenty of time to think about it."

"So no room for movement on the sentence, your honor?" she asked sweetly.

He leaned back in his chair. "What do you think would be a more appropriate sentence?"

"Five days – no phone, no TV, and no going out on school nights."

"For how long?" he was interested.

"As long as school is in session."

"Ok," he agreed.

"Ok?"

"I think that is more than reasonable."

"I just offered too much, didn't I?"

"Pretty much," he smiled at her.

"Damn."

"Mattie please – it's so unattractive to see a beautiful young woman with a mouth like fish monger."

"OK. I'll try."

"Good."

She finally noticed that he looked really tired. "Were you up all night stewing about this?"

It was nice to know that she could read him. "I had a few sleepless hours last night, but not all about you."

"What else? Big case?"

He didn't really want to talk to her about it, but some how he felt that he should. "Mac and I talked last night."

"Has she dumped that loser yet?"

Harm shook his head. "I don't think that is going to happen."

"So what did you two talk about?"

"All the stuff that you and I talked about," he shrugged.

"You told her that you trust her to make her own choices?"

"I did."

"So if she stayed out an hour and a half past curfew…" Mattie smiled.

Harm couldn't help himself. He smiled too.

"What did she say?" Mattie continued.

He exhaled. "Nothing really, I don't think she believed me."

"She will – in time."

"Time," he shook his head. "Too much time."

"Look Harm, you could go the direct approach and just tell her what you want."

"Not while she is with Webb. I can't take the chance of ruining another relationship for her."

"If she and the spook are rock solid, there is nothing you can do to shake it."

"Mattie – no. They may or may not be rock solid – as you say – but that may have nothing to do with her feelings for me – if she has any left at all."

"Of course she has feelings for you – look what she did for us?"

"Yeah. I know it looks that simple to you. But it's not. She has dealt with quite a bit this last year, and I didn't make it any easier for her," he looked away. "I need to be the friend she has been to me. I owe her that much."

"That is ridiculous – You're going to sacrifice your feelings to protect hers."

"I'm going to give her what she will accept from me, and ask nothing more."

"And what?"

"And move on with my life," he nodded to her. "Finish your breakfast. I'll drive you to school."

1603 ZULU – Wednesday, March 31, 2004

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, VA

Harm was heating his leftovers in the microwave. He was planning lunch at his desk. He heard Mac and Harriet outside the door.

"Thank you ma'am, but we can't this weekend. Bud is working."

"It was just a thought, Harriet."

"Thanks for thinking of us, ma'am."

Harm was watching the door when Mac walked in.

"Hey," she was shocked to see him there.

"Hey, yourself."

"Tupperware lunch?"

"Yeah – lasagna from five nights ago," he confirmed.

"Didn't you have that yesterday?"

"And Monday and Sunday night."

"Mattie not a big fan of vegetarian lasagna?"

"Not much," he pulled it out, poke it with a fork and put it back in for another minute. "What is your culinary delicacy today?"

"A ham sandwich," she opened her bag and looked at the sandwich she made that morning. It looked less than appetizing.

"Yummy," he joked.

She tossed it into the garbage. "Tell you what – how about we go to the Noodle house – my treat."

The microwave dinged. He pulled his lasagna out. "What do I do with this?"

"Do you really want me to tell you?"

He smiled and dumped it in the garbage. "Let's go."

**Thai Noodle House – fifteen minutes later**

"So Harm tell me – what did you think about working for the CIA?"

He nearly choked. "What?"

"Come on, you worked for the CIA for four or five months, what was it like?"

"The fact that they fired me for saving the lives of a number of women and children should tell you what I thought about it."

"That isn't why they fired you."

He nodded. "No, I suppose it wasn't. But that incident alone should tell you why the CIA and I were never meant to be."

"You do things in the open and they --."

"Don't," he looked at her. "Thinking of switching career tracks?"

"Maybe."

"I'm sure you would get a hell of a recommendation from … a number of people."

"You think I should look into it?"

"No," he said too quickly.

She had to smile. "Why?"

He had to choose his words very carefully and make sure that she understood that his reason for not recommending that course wasn't purely because of his feelings for her. "Well, to be honest – and I don't want you to read too much into this – but you and I are cut from a different cloth than the average CIA agent."

"Really?" she leaned back. "You don't think I could cut it?"

"I didn't say that. I think you can do whatever you set your mind to. But again – You're a marine – you have been trained to meet situations head on. Skirting around dark alleys, going under cover, gaining people confidences so you can betray them, playing mind games with the good guys as well as the bad guys – that isn't me and I don't believe it's you."

She nodded for a moment. "You're right, of course."

"What got you thinking about it?"

"Something Webb said this morning," she didn't mean to add 'this morning', but it sort of fell out.

"Oh." It still stung to know how close they were – but he told her he would support her decisions.

"It's just sometimes – on days like today – where I have a mountain of paper work with no end in sight – I have to think that there is something better or at least different – more meaningful."

"I can understand that – got my own mountain to scale this weekend."

"Looks like I will too," she agreed.

"Yeah, but your mountain will have snow on it."

She shook her head. "Nope – trip got canceled. Duty called. Clay had to leave town."

"I'm sorry to hear that Mac," he said with as much sincerity he could muster.

She looked at him and challenged. "Are you?"

He smiled broadly. "I actually am."

She returned the smile. "This is killing you, isn't it?" she goaded him.

"You ought to know."

"Excuse me?"

"I can imagine it's like breaking any bad habit… One step at a time," he added.

"Do you have a support group?"

"Yeah – another AA – meets on Saturdays."

"AA? " she laughed. "Don't tell me, I have a good enough imagination."

He laughed with her.

"Look," she said after a moment. "The tickets and the room at paid for. Why don't you take the trip to Vermont."

"What?" she wasn't seriously suggesting that they go together.

"You and Mattie, I mean."

He shook his head, "That is very generous of you, but --."

"Not me, Clay paid for the whole thing," she nodded. "Come on, you two need a weekend of fun."

"I can't do it this weekend. I have opening arguments on Friday and the admiral just dumped another case on my lap that I will be investigating all weekend."

"Which one?"

"The Jackson case. Petty Office accused of stealing."

"That is minor. I can do it for you."

"Close to a million dollars of the government's money – don't think they think it's a misdemeanor."

"Guess not. But I can still do it."

"Don't think the admiral wants more work on your plate," he thought for a moment. "But…"

"But what?"

"You could go with Mattie."

She looked nervous at the suggestion.

"She is grounded so she can't watch TV or use the phone, but I would let her go under your watch."

"You're kidding right?"

"No, not at all," he shrugged. "Not quite the romantic weekend you had planned, but Mattie is good company. She would make you laugh."

"Harm, we barely know each other."

"It would be a perfect way to fix that," he nodded again. "Yeah, I want you two to be friends, this could be good."

"You aren't worried that she and I would talk about you all weekend?"

He actually hadn't thought about that and it did make him nervous. "I'm sure you two can find more interesting topics to discuss than me. You actually have some things in common."

"More than alcoholic fathers and absent mothers?"

"Yes," he was now thinking that it was a bad idea. "You know what, never mind. It was just a suggestion," he waved it away. "Why don't you meet Chloe up there?"

"She is with her father in Japan this semester."

"Oh. Too bad."

They ate in silence for a moment.

"Do you really think Mattie would want to go?" Mac asked.

"I don't know. You could ask her – but don't do it on my account. I just thought you could use a weekend away. Like I said Mattie is good company. She has a way about her that helps – me anyway – remember what is important."

Mac thought for a moment and shook her head. "Nah, I will probably just stay home, get a massage – putter around the house."

"Whatever you think is best."

**0130 ZULU – Wednesday, March 31, 2004**

**Rabb Residence**

**North of Union Station**

Mac tentatively knocked on Harm's door. He answered it at the second knock.

"Mac," he stepped back to let her in. "How'd it go?"

Mac had decided to talk to Mattie about the trip to Vermont. He didn't ask what changed her mind, and he didn't interfere. He just let Mac go talk to Mattie.

She nodded. "She is a very special kid."

"I think so."

"She was a little tentative at first but after we talked for a while she warmed up to the idea.

"Good, very good," he looked at her. "Are you still OK with this? I mean taking a fifteen year old skiing isn't the same as a weekend away."

"I know, and you know what? I think it will be more fun," she smiled. "We have made some plans. Some GIRL plans."

"Oh, I see – is that your way of telling me not to crash the party?"

"Were you thinking about it?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't have this weekend."

"I would prefer you didn't."

He looked a little hurt, like she was suggesting that it would be bad for her relationship with Webb. "Ok."

"Stop thinking what You're thinking – I just think if Mattie and are going to be friends, it shouldn't be about you."

"Ok," he nodded. "I understand. Tell me when and where you need her and what she needs to pack, and she'll be ready."

"You're such a good dad," she smiled at him. She started to reach for the door and turned back to him with a very serious look.

"What?"

She spoke slowly. "There are times, Harm, when you know me better than I know myself," she said fighting the tears in her voice.

"Why cause I'm dumping my kid on you for the weekend?" he tried to keep it light.

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah, cause of that. I think it was just what the doctor ordered."

He didn't say anything. Whatever he would have said would have been too much or too little.

She added. "I didn't tell you this the other night, but I meant to. I want to remain in your life, too."

He couldn't help himself. She looked so vulnerable and sad. He pulled her into an embrace that she returned gratefully. Three words kept running around his head like a loop but he remained silent.


	2. 02

Title: **Switching Tracks**

Chapter Two

By: LizD

Spoilers: Alternate Ending to Season Nine – Spoilers Though The Death of Sadik

Notes: Written before the last five shows of Season Nine Aired

Written: April/May 2004

**Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.**

Switching Tracks – Part Deux

Missed Connections

2236 ZULU – Wednesday, April 7, 2004

Iranian Embassy

Paris, France

Mac felt something rip though her like a bullet – no a more like a musket ball – hot, heavy and crude. Her hand immediately went to the pain to check the wound – to stop the bleeding. There was no blood. No physical wound of any kind. Confusion set it. She hadn't been shot, or punched or attacked in any way – at least not literally – but the pain was excruciating. Her breath caught in her throat. Mac had no idea what kept her on her feet; what kept her from crumpling to the floor in writhing pain; what kept her from crying out. Her only thought was to stay standing and hope that the smile on her face was not turning into a hideously painful grin. She quickly looked back at the face of the Australian Ambassador and made ever effort to focus on the words he was saying. She didn't hear anything, not his words, not the replies her commanding officer was making, not the orchestra playing, not the voices of the hundreds of other guests. All she heard was her heart pounding in her ears.

"Colonel?" The admiral said again this time touching her arm to get her attention.

She looked up at him and smiled, hoping that would be enough. It wasn't.

"Colonel, are you alright?"

She looked back at the Australian Ambassador.

"Too much of this fine champagne." The ambassador offered. He obviously hadn't noticed that Mac had not taken a sip out of the glass she was holding.

"If you two will excuse me." She said. "I need some air."

"Allow me." Admiral Chegwidden offered her his arm, made the appropriate excuses and directed her out on to the balcony. As soon as they were outside, "Colonel?" The admiral asked clearly very worried.

"Yes, sir." She said taking the seat he offered. "I'm fine, sir. Might I ask you for a glass of water?"

"Certainly." He started to leave and turned back. He didn't want to leave her alone.

She nodded. "I am fine sir. It was very hot in there."

He left to find the water.

As soon as he was gone, Mac was on her feet. She came back to the open door and looked to the other side of the room – the same direction from which the shot had come. She again put her hand to the pain. It was low in her abdomen – deep in her gut – not in the heart where she might have expected it to be. She felt the pain get heavier as again their eyes met for another frozen moment in time. She was looking into the dead, lifeless, unaffected eyes of Clayton Webb.

Webb stood on the other side of the room with beautiful young woman on his arm. He was conversing with two men of Middle Eastern descent. He made a joke, the men laughed. Then he kissed his companion on the cheek and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle and the men uncomfortable with the lovers' secret. There was absolutely no outward sign that Webb recognized Mac even when he was looking directly at her.

The pain Mac was feeling was not jealousy. It was not anger. It was something she could not fully identify but it shook her to the core. She saw the admiral making his way back to her with the water. She wanted to leave, but it would be too hard to explain why. She would sound like a jealous girlfriend.

The admiral handed her the water. "Webb is here." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes, sir." She said.

"Did you know he was going to be in Paris?"

"No, sir." She was getting stronger at least she knew now that she didn't imagine him.

"Do you know who he is with?" He didn't look back at Webb.

"No, sir."

"I believe the men he is speaking with are from the Ministry of Defense from Saudi Arabia."

"Yes, sir."

"Would you like to leave?" He asked finally.

"No sir." She looked up at him and smiled. "I would like to dance."

Mac had no idea where that request came from but it was the only thing she could think of. They couldn't leave the reception so soon. The admiral was supposed to have a conversation with the Iranian Ambassador about some American and Iraqi POWs that were being detained in Iran; it was their whole reason for coming to Paris. The admiral said nothing but the pride and respect on his face as he led her to the dance floor was all that she needed to know that she had said and was doing the right thing.

For the next hour plus, Webb and this woman seemed to be moving closer to Mac's position regardless of where she moved in the room. Soon she would not be able to avoid him. There was a part of Mac that thought he was doing that on purpose – some sick seductive game of his; as if Mac would be aroused at the sight of Clay making love to another woman all under the guise of this spy game. Mac could tell that he was not drunk, but he was making every effort to appear that way to his companion. His actions were too deliberate, too over done. He was solicitous and affectionate in a way that Mac recognized. The woman – young, dumb and very sexy – was overly solicitous and affectionate with Clay. They were making a scene. Mac wondered if that was the plan at the outset and for what purpose. At one point they were close enough for Mac to over hear their conversation. His voice cooed and cloyed in a privately familiar way. Whoever this woman was, Clay knew her intimately. In moments they would be standing next to her, there would be no way to avoid 'meeting.' Mac moved to a safe distance and maintained it.

She tried to rationalize the scene. Webb was obviously working. But what assignment was he working on? Was this woman the cover or the target? Who were the men he was speaking with and how did they play into this game? As always the CIA's assignments left more questions than answers.

A short while later, she saw Clay and the woman leave the party. She knew where they would be going, what they would be doing and what words Clay would whisper in her ear as he 'maintained' his cover. Clay was nothing if not a professional. Mac was embarrassed by his behavior and ashamed that it hadn't occurred to her the lengths to which Webb would go 'in the line of duty.' Hell, even James Bond got the girl – a perk of the job.

When she was finally able to get back to her quarters the pain in her stomach was still weighing heavily. The meeting with the Iranian Ambassador had gone well, there were a few things to tie up in the morning, but she and the admiral would be on their way back home by afternoon. The chance of her running into Clay again was minimal. She hadn't seen or heard from him since the morning he told her that their weekend was canceled – a week ago. She knew that as soon as she was home, the weight of the shot would lift. By time she saw him again, it would all but be forgotten. Mac would have analyzed it, rationalized it, accepted it and put it away.

She got up at 0500, packed her things, and went for a run – a very long run. She did not return until 0628. Webb was waiting for her.

"You shouldn't be here?" She said coolly.

"Didn't know you were going to be in Paris." He replied. "When did you get here?"

"We are leaving in a couple of hours." She stepped by him to get some water.

"That's not what I asked." He saw that she was upset and was secretly gratified that she was jealous. "You know that I was working last night and that I am compromising my mission by being here with you now."

"Then you better go." Her tone was flat, sincere and calm.

"Sarah."

"Clay, you should go."

"I didn't sleep with her." He said in defense but she knew he was lying. If he weren't lying, he would have shown up at her quarters in the middle of the night.

"Clay, you do what you have to do." She looked through him. "You always have."

"I didn't have to come here." He defended.

She said nothing.

"I don't have to love you." His voice cooed in that same slippery tone she heard him use the night before. "But I do."

"Clay – don't."

He stepped up to her and pulled her into an embrace. She didn't resist. "I do love you, Sarah."

He kissed her and again she did not resist.

"Sarah?"

"I love you too." She did not look at him when she said it and she almost believed it herself.

"I'll see you in a week – maybe ten days."

She nodded. He pulled himself from her and stepped to the door. With a quick look outside and one glance back at her, he smiled and slipped out silently like the spook he was. The weight in her gut grew heavier.

1145 ZULU – Friday, April 9, 2004

Rabb Residence

North of Union Station

Harm was getting dressed for work when Mattie knocked and entered. She was not dressed for school.

"Hey." She said making her way to the fridge.

"Hey." He called back to her. "I've got an early meeting – don't be late for school."

She pulled out the bowl of grapes and started stuffing them into her mouth. "I won't."

"You need some protein there kid."

"If you aren't making it – I'm not eating it."

"Mattie you quite capable of making yourself a decent breakfast on the rare occasion that I can't."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Cereal at least – with milk."

"Ya know Harm, you would make a great Jewish mother." She put the grapes back and pulled out the milk and started digging for some cereal that was edible. "Speaking of – you interested in meeting Conrad's mother?"

He came down to the kitchen, poured the rest of his coffee into the sink and rinsed the cup. "You know I am."

"She is divorced. Around 38. She is thin enough for a banker and her favorite movie is Top Gun."

"Are you setting me up on a date?" He asked pulling a box of Granola from the cupboard and placing it in front of her.

"Why not?" She put it back.

"I can find my own women, thank you very much." He moved to the living room to start collecting the files he was working on last night.

"Doing a great job there, Rabby."

"Rabby?" He smiled in mock offense.

She gave up looking for a cereal. "When was the last time you had a female companion for dinner?"

"No thank you, Mattie." He warned.

"What if Connie and I go with you?" She added. "There is a great pizza place in Georgetown."

"Chaperones?" He was over by the desk stuffing the files into his briefcase.

"Conrad likes you."

"Good for Conrad." He said with a sideways glance

"You still don't like him."

"I have a limited opinion of Conrad. The first time I met him he mocked vegetarians for being -."

"He apologized for that." She stopped him.

"The second time he failed to bring you home on time."

"Third time is the charm." She smiled.

"Yes, I would be delighted to join you and Conrad and Conrad's mother for pizza." He shook his head. "This is not a date." He warned her again.

"Harm, you got to get back out there. Sitting at home pining away is not healthy."

"I'm not pining."

"Did you send Mac the flowers?" She accused.

"I told you, she has been out of town. She left the day after you got back."

"And returned yesterday." She waited until he looked at her. "Did you talk to her?"

"I was in court all day yesterday." He defended. "And they are your flowers Mattie – you send them."

"Fine, give me your credit card."

"Are you kidding? I am still paying off the last excursion you had on my tab."

"Harm."

"I'll order them today." He said flatly.

"You still have the card I wrote."

He nodded.

"No roses."

"I know what she likes." He gave her a warning look.

"Evidence to the contrary."

"What do you THINK you know?" He asked.

"Nothing." She said with a sly grin.

"So you still aren't going to tell me what happened on your trip?"

"Nothing 'happened.'" She smiled. "We had a nice time. We skied, we talked, we ate like there was no tomorrow. It was fun. Mac is a lot of fun."

"She used to be." He said under his breath.

"Mac is like a lot of people – like me – you can't push her – you have to let her come to you."

Harm wanted to take up that argument in six different ways sighting all the history he had to prove that statement wrong, but chose to keep his mouth shut.

"Besides – she and I agreed that whatever we talked about was strictly between us."

"Terrific, she is teaching you to lie and keep secrets."

"I am not doing either – but there are things that you don't need to know." She laughed. "And before you blow a gasket – we didn't talk about you."

"I find that very hard to believe." He said shutting and locking his briefcase.

"Well, not all about you." She grinned. "Would you believe that she didn't say anything bad about you and I didn't ask her why she wasn't in love with you?"

"Mattie!" He was shocked.

"I said I DID NOT ask her that." She shrugged. "We both think you are a terrific guy – for a work in progress."

"I knew I should have kept you locked in your room until you were eighteen."

"Dinner with Mrs. Levinson is Sunday night in Georgetown. Seven o'clock?"

"Fine. I have to go. Please eat something other than grapes and take a lunch."

"Can't you just give me money?"

"There is lasagna in the fridge." Harm checked his watch and blew out of the apartment.

Mattie waited until she heard him pound down the stairs – in too much of a hurry to wait for the elevator – then she turned back to the refrigerator and pulled out the lasagna, made a face and pulled out the makings for a sandwich and a couple of eggs.

1715 ZULU – Friday, April 9, 2004

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, VA

Harm walked into the bullpen to retrieve the messages that came in while he was in court. He saw Mac in her office behind the closed door. The flowers sat on the credenza behind her – out of the way, out of sight. He had stopped that morning and picked them out one stem at a time and waited while they arrangement was done; it made him late for his meeting. He left them on her desk with Mattie's card.

He knocked on her door.

"Enter." She said not looking up.

"Afternoon." He said in a friendly tone. "Free for lunch?"

"No." She replied without a tone of remorse or regret in it.

"Ok." He was going to step back out and leave the tiger at peace in her cage, but curiosity got the better of him. "Nice flowers." He said with a cocky tone. "Someone must have been good."

Mac shot him a look that should have sunk him to his knees. The questions were why she hated getting flowers at work. She hated having to answer them. People who were work acquaintances acting like they had an invitation to her personal life just because she got flowers.

"You like them so much – take them." She sneered.

"They weren't sent to me."

"Look Harm, I am really busy – so if you don't mind." She nodded for him to leave and close the door on his way out.

He looked over at the wastebasket and saw that Mattie's card had been ripped in half and thrown in the basket unopened.

"I think you should mind."

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you want to talk about it?" He stepped in, rather than out.

"What do I need talk about?" She glared at him.

"Well, for one. Why you are so pissed off that someone sent you flowers."

"That is none of your damn business."

"Well – actually – in a way it sort of is."

"Get out of my office, Harm." She was trying to be playful but it didn't come out that way.

"You might want to read the card, colonel – I don't think your instincts were 100 this time." He gave her a cocky grin and closed the door.

Mac watched him go. She pulled the card from the wastebasket and put the two halves together. Her face went from angry, to embarrassed, to smiling. She sat for a moment, and turned and looked at the flowers. They were from her favorite florist and full of lilies, tulips, irises and all the flowers that she loved – not a rose in the mix. They had to have come from a man, girls – fifteen year old girls don't pick out flowers like that. Harm. She moved the arrangement to her desk and fluffed them a little. She would have bet money they were from Clay. They should have been from Clay. She had not heard form him since the other morning in her quarters – thirty-eight hours, twenty-nine minutes ago – but who's counting?

Moments later she knocked and entered Harm's office.

"Thank you." She stated sheepishly.

"For what? I asked you to go to lunch and you turned me down."

"Is the offer still good?"

"I have to be in court in thirty-five minutes. So now I am stuck eating peanut butter crackers from the vending machine." He was playing with her. "Want one?"

She took the offered cracker. "I'll make it up to you."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Thank you for the flowers."

"I am just the delivery man – it was Mattie's idea."

"You did more than deliver them – they are beautiful."

"Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady." His compliment was sincere, although if he were asked, she did not look as beautiful today has she normally did. She looked tired and strained.

"Thank you."

"Welcome." He leaned back in his chair. "So."

"So?"

"Mattie won't tell me what happened on your trip?"

"And you think I will?" She laughed and took anther cracker off his desk.

"Did you two form an alliance?"

"In a manner of speaking – we both think you are a terrific guy – for a work in progress."

He rolled his eyes, remembering that Mattie had said that same thing just that morning. "Well at least you two have your stories straight."

"A key factor in any collusion."

"Guess I need to watch my back."

"You're safe."

There was a moment of silence, Harm needed to say something or she would get up and go. "The admiral says everything in Paris went fine."

"Yes, it did." She got a little stiff; her hand immediately went to the pain still weighing in her gut.

"I haven't been to Paris in years." He tried not to stare at her. "The city of lights. The city of lovers."

"You should have gone in my stead." She meant that sincerely. The trip had cost her something that she was not prepared to pay.

"Next time."

"Yeah." She got up to leave. His tactic didn't work.

"So are you going to tell me?" He asked before she could get to the door.

"Tell you what?"

"Who you thought the flowers were from and why that would have been a bad thing."

She studied him for a moment. "No."

"Ok." His disappointment did not show – and he covered with a joke and a smile. "But if you want to talk, I have two good ears - now."

"And a shoulder for me to cry on?" She accused.

"Two of them – if you need them."

"Harm." She warned.

"I can be impartial."

"Since when?"

He got very serious. "I will listen – if you want to talk."

She nodded slowly. "Can I have a rain check?"

"No need, it is a standing offer."

"You have to stop being nice to me." She laughed at him. "It makes me nervous."

She stepped out of his office and he watched the doorway for a long moment. Every time they talked to each other now it seemed that so much more was left unsaid. Now that he was being 'nice' he didn't say what he wanted and didn't get information about her that he used to. In the past he would have asked directly about Webb – well actually it would have been an accusation or a caustic remark that she would retaliate against - and in her retaliation she would give out more information than she intended. This being 'nice' was not netting him the same inflow of data. All he could assume was that there was trouble with Mac and Webb – but how much and what that really meant to her he had no idea. Did it give him hope?

"Hey, Rabb." Mac called from the door.

He pulled out of his 'lost in space' stare just in time to catch the flying peanut butter crackers and snickers bar that she tossed at him.

"This is making up for it?" He laughed.

"For now." She waved and walked away.

A very thin sliver of hope.

0618 ZULU – Saturday, April 10, 2004

McKenzie Residence

Georgetown

Mac crossed from the kitchen to the bathroom with a mop, a broom and a bucket full of cleaning supplies. Her hair was covered with a bandanna and she had on some very old sweats. Her bathroom had been cleared of everything that was not screwed or plastered down. She donned some gloves and started scrubbing the walls of the shower with a hard bristle brush and Clorox.

Mac had barely slept since Paris. When she was cleaning out the bathroom she came across a bottle of Webb's sleeping pills. He was beginning to leave more and more stuff there as his nighttime visits became more frequent – mostly clothes. The only thing she would not allow him to leave was alcohol and if she had known about the drugs, she would have told him to take those too. He didn't understand why it was an issue. She flushed them down the toilet.

Hours passed. Mac was on the floor of her kitchen, every drawer had been removed and the contents of all the cupboards and cabinets had been emptied and left on the counter. Mac was carefully measuring out contact paper for the shelf under the sink.

Hours passed. It was close to dawn. Mac had showered and changed into clean sweats and running shoes. The house was back in perfect order. She was stretching against her doorframe. Her eyes were hard, but the bags underneath betrayed her sleeplessness. She took a few deep breaths and headed out for five miles – maybe ten.

An hour and a half later Mac came limping back into her apartment. She was scraped on both knees and had a large cut on her forearm and another one over her left eye. Nothing was bleeding now, but no first aid had been applied. She tended to her wounds and took the warmest shower she could stand. When she got out, she wrapped herself in clean pajamas and crawled into bed. With in moments she was out – not asleep – she had literally worn herself out and passed out – something a half o' fifth of Vodka would have done for her in an eighth the time. But at least now her spring-cleaning was done.

0145 ZULU – April 11, 2004

Faccia Luna Pizzeria

Georgetown

Harm sat caddy corner from Anna Levinson, Conrad's mother. She was a very lovely woman to look at but she and Harm had absolutely nothing in common. Through the salad course, he had tried to find a common subject to discuss. She hated flying; her favorite movie was THE WAY WE WERE and not TOP GUN. She had very definite opinions about the war in IRAQ and had nothing nice to say about the president. She felt that the military system in America was a glorified boys' club and any woman who tried to make it through the ranks was either a masochist or stupid. Harm did not take up any of these debates. He just kept looking for something that would get them through the meal. He settled on the kids. She was not impressed with his guardianship of Mattie and stated that his "fifteen minutes" of parenthood was not enough to make him understand what it took to be there 24/7 for a child from birth to adulthood. That conversation led to the failings of Mattie's father, then to Conrad's father and basically to all men – present company not excused. It turned out Anna Levinson was in the middle of a very nasty divorce. The only good thing she had to say was that it was impressive that Harm never married – at least he knew his limitations. The comments were kept short and to the point (stabs at him, that he either took or ignored) and the kids were off playing video games. Harm smiled and bit his tongue through it all – an officer and a gentleman.

He turned his attention to Mattie and Conrad as Anna took a phone call, presumably from her lawyer. Mattie looked so different now. She was not that hard, defiant, me-against-the-world kid he met lo those many months ago. She looked like a normal teenager flirting (if you can call it flirting) with a boy. She was laughing and happy.

Mac walked in and Mattie saw her right away. Harm's eyes followed his 'ward' as she greeted Mac with a warm hug and a bright smile. She introduced Conrad to Mac and they laughed over something he said. Mattie pointed to where Harm and Anna were sitting. When their eyes met, Mac's face went from bright to dark as she saw Harm with this other woman. He was on his feet instantly, stepping away from Anna. Mattie dragged Mac over to the table.

"Harm, look who I found." Mattie called from across the room.

"I see." He smiled at Mac tentatively.

She looked angry and annoyed and like she didn't have any interest in being a part of this gathering. The fact that she looked like she hadn't slept in days didn't escape him either. As she got closer he saw the cut over her eye.

"Mac, what happened? Are you OK?" His voice was full of concern.

"I'm fine." She smiled nervously. "Running accident."

Anna finally hung up the phone.

"Mrs. Levinson, this is Sarah MacKenzie." Mattie said respectfully. "People call her Mac."

Anna reached her hand out to Mac, "People call me Anna – adult people, that is."

Mac felt the hostility from the woman and knew she was interrupting.

"It is nice to meet you. I have heard a lot of good things about Conrad." Mac looked at the young man quickly.

Conrad was obviously nervous. "Well, Mattie can tell you all now how she beat me at Space Invaders." He punched her playfully on the arm. "Even though she cheated."

"I did not cheat." Mattie defended. "I am just better than you."

"Mattie, hasn't anyone told you?" Anna Levinson said with a sarcastic tone. "Boys have to win – boys always have to win, and girls are supposed to let them."

Harm was too shocked to speak.

"I am not going to let a boy beat me." She stated confidently not really understanding Anna's sarcasm.

"And well you shouldn't." Said Anna. Anna looked up at Mac. "You can tell her Mac, I am sure you have had to 'lose' to a man more than twice in your life?"

Mac looked down and smiled tentatively.

"You know the story – even if they don't win, they have to lie to say they did or that you couldn't have done it without a man's help or that you cheated."

"Mom." Conrad said pulling on her sleeve.

"So what is it that you do, Mac?" Anna continued undaunted.

"I work with Harm. I am a lawyer."

"Navy?" Anna asked with disgust in her voice.

"Marines."

Anna shook her head. "Then you must have had more than two opportunities to let the boys win."

Harm interrupted hoping to stop Anna's mouth. "You here alone Mac?" Apparently he took the next rude comment upon himself. "I mean, why don't you join us." He tried to recover but it was too late.

She glared at him. "I am picking up dinner to go." She spit at him. "If you will excuse me, I believe it is ready now."

Harm looked ashamed and hurt.

"It was nice to meet you Anna, Conrad. Mattie, thank you again for the flowers."

"Thank you for the skiing and-." She looked at Harm quickly. "And everything else."

"Harm, see you Monday." Mac nodded and left.

Mattie and Conrad agreed to a rematch and ran back to the video games. Anna's cell phone rang again. Harm remained standing watching Mac. She paid for her food and slunk out without a backward glance. Harm followed.

"Mac." He caught up to her when she was half way down the street. "Mac. Wait."

"What do you want, Harm?"

"I'm sorry about Anna."

She shook her head, she didn't want to hear an apology. "What are you sorry for?"

"I don't – "

"Are you sorry that I interrupted you or that your new girl friend was so hostile?"

"She is not -." He defended.

"Doesn't matter. But in the future let me give you a piece of advice." She looked around furtively. "If you are trying to avoid someone, don't eat in their favorite restaurant. FYI."

"Mac please?"

She turned on her heel and walked toward her apartment.

"Mac, would you wait?" He chased after her. "What is going on?"

"Dinner." She threw over her shoulder. "Dinner. That's what's going on."

"Are you OK?" He reached to catch her arm; she deflected it. It was a startlingly violent move and Harm stepped back. "Mac."

"Don't touch me." She stated.

That is when he noticed the cut on her arm. "Mac, you're bleeding."

She looked down. "Not, your concern." She waved him off and started walking again.

"Mac, you need to go to the hospital."

"I'll take care of it."

She kept walking. He was going to chase after her, but it was clear that she didn't want to talk to him.

Thirty minutes later, Harm knocked on Mac's door. She looked through the peephole and thought about not letting him in. He knocked again.

She opened the door. "What are you doing here, Harm?"

"The restaurant asked me to bring you this, you forgot it." He pushed a bag at her.

She looked confused and took the bag from him. She pulled out a piece of double chocolate cheesecake.

"I didn't order this." She stated.

"Their bad." He smiled.

"I don't want this Harm."

"Yes you do." He pushed by her. "And you want this." He held up some bandages.

"Harm."

"Go take off your shirt, colonel."

"Excuse me?"

"You have blood all over that one." He pointed out. "Go put on a t-shirt and bring me the hydrogen peroxide."

She stood immobile at the door.

"That is an order, colonel."

She slammed the door and did as she was ordered. She was back in moments and he motioned for her to sit on the coffee table so he could tend to the wound.

"You should have gotten stitches." He scolded. "This is going to scar."

"I'll make up some fantastic war story."

"What happened … really?"

"A tree root reached up and attacked me." She tired to laugh. "Where is Mattie?"

"The movies." He was quiet for a moment trying to phrase the next question as best he could. "When was the last time you actually slept for eight hours?"

"I'm fine."

"You look like hell, Mac."

"Always quick with the compliments aren't you?" She turned away.

"I am telling you this as a friend."

She looked back at him. "Are we friends, Harm?"

"Of course we are."

"Funny, I always thought friends talked to each other, laughed, spent time together, actually enjoyed each others' company." Her tone was cold and hard and challenging.

Harm felt the fight coming, and didn't know how to stop it. "So what do you think we are then?" He asked. "If not friends."

"People who know too much about the other." She looked at him. "Like prisoners who share the same cage."

He was done with his first aid and started cleaning up. "That ought to do it." He knew she was baiting him and forced himself not to retaliate.

"Not bad, Navy." She said. "We could make a marine out of you yet."

He nodded, half smiled and went to the kitchen to throw the mess away. He took several deep breaths in the kitchen. When he came back he was ready. "So, Mac-." He started.

She cut him off. "I'm sorry you had to end your date so quickly to come here and do this."

"Date? With the president of the Man-Haters Association of America? That wasn't a date. That was Mattie's idea."

"Actually it wasn't." She stated.

"You put that idea into her head?"

"Harm, there hasn't been a woman in your life since Renee. I think it is time that you get back out there." The coldness with which she said that shocked even her.

Harm didn't have a clue how to respond. She was dismissing him; not just from her apartment, but from her life.

"You aren't getting any younger," she continued. "You don't want to be alone forever." She was digging in the knife and twisting – she couldn't stop herself.

"What has happened to you?" He said not hiding his hurt and pain very well. "Have I been so horrible that you need to do this?"

"What do you think I am doing?" She stood up and moved away from him.

"Mac, you can shut people out of your life. You can destroy friendships – associations that have been earned and tested over years. You can build a hundred foot wall around yourself to keep anything bad from getting in, but you are also going to keep anything good from getting in too. All you'll wind up doing – in the end – is being alone."

"I have people in my life, Rabb"

"Yeah, the spy who loves you – where is Webb, Mac?"

"He is not your concern."

"No, no he is not." He stood up. "But you are. I care about you, Mac."

"Care about me? You don't even know me." She threw at him. "You don't know what I have done – what I am capable of."

Harm hesitated.

"And if you did – you wouldn't want anything to do with me." She finished, daring him to debate her.

"What is it that I don't know?" He was aggressively gentle.

"Need to know, commander." She glared at him. "And you don't."

"Mac."

"No. It is time for you to go."

"Mac, please. We're friends."

"I don't want to be your friend Harm." She said fighting the tears back. "It hurts too damn much."

"What hurts?"

"You need to go." She opened the door. "Please. JUST GO."

"Why won't you talk to me?"

"We have nothing left to say to each other."

"I disagree." He stated.

"Again, commander, the story of us – we disagree – about everything." She looked toward the hallway.

"You can't get rid of me this easily, Mac. I won't let you."

"It is not up to you, Harm."

"If I leave, I won't be back." He warned hoping it would change her mind. Sadly it just upped the ante beyond his floor limit.

"I know." She called his bluff.

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

"Fine." He walked toward the door and paused in front of her.

She would not make eye contact with him.

"You shouldn't be this … unhappy."

She did not move.

"There is nothing that you did or think you did that means that you have to be this unhappy."

She looked into his face.

"Nothing." He said again.

She shook her head and looked down. He didn't know what he was talking about.

"Talk to somebody, Mac." He said gently. "If not me, talk to somebody."

When he was sure she would not respond, he nodded sadly and stepped out of the apartment. The door was closed and locked as soon as it was safe. She stood there for a moment feeling her heart race. She exhaled the breath she was holding and pushed the tears out of her eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught her reflection in the mirror. She did look like hell. She looked like …

Mac balled up her fist and punched the woman in the glass with everything she had. The glass shattered and her hand was freshly cut. She laughed at the fractured self she saw still staring back at her. "Great, seven more years of this?" She slumped to the floor and forced herself not to cry in spite of the tears rolling down her face.

After a long moment, went to her desk, found a business card stuck in the corner of her blotter, she reached for the phone and dialed. It was voice-mail. She waited for the beep taking deep breaths to steady her voice.

"Commander McCool, this is Sarah McKenzie. May I have an appointment tomorrow or at your earliest convenience?"


	3. 03

Title: **Switching Tracks**

Chapter Three

By: LizD

Spoilers: Alternate Ending to Season Nine – Spoilers Though The Death of Sadik

Notes: Written before the last five shows of Season Nine Aired

Written: April/May 2004

**Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.**

Switching Tracks – Part Three

Are we even close to the right track?

**1205 Zulu – Wednesday, April 14, 2004**

**Rabb Residence**

**North of Union Station**

Harm was slowly getting ready for work, another bad night for the pilot-come-lawyer, but it was his friend-turned-cellmate role that was keeping him from getting his rest. Something was wrong with Mac. Something was very wrong. Mac wasn't normally that … mean. Not Mac. Mean spirited comments said in the heat of the moment were his M.O, not hers.

They hadn't spoken since Sunday night. He was in court all day Monday and Tuesday. She did leave him a message on his voice mail that was something work related. She acted like everything was fine; she even thanked him for his medical services and the dessert.

As he lay restless the past few nights her words – from the recent and distant past – spun around in his head.

"_I always thought friends talked to each other, laughed, spent time together, actually enjoyed each others' company. . . . [We aren't friends. We are] people who know too much about the other. Like prisoners who share the same cage."_

"_I don't why we couldn't work things out between us, Harm." _

"_We are getting too good at saying goodbye."  
_

"_I don't want to be your friend anymore, it hurts to damn much." _

"_Harm, there hasn't been a woman in your life since Renee. I think It's time that you get back out there."_

"_Things are never going to work out between us. . . . It's physically and emotional impossible."_

How many times had she pushed him away? How many times did she keep a safe distance? Was there a pattern that Harm had failed to recognize?

Maybe it wasn't all her issue. Maybe it was THEIR issue. Maybe he had been wrong all this time. Maybe it wasn't his lack of commitment, or her denying her feelings that kept them apart. Maybe it had nothing to do with one or the other fighting to be on top. Maybe Mac didn't want him, plain and simple.

"_That's a very nice smile, and I'm sure most of the time it gets you what you want. But I don't know you, Cmdr, so if you don't mind, I'll keep my personal reasons to myself.__" _

That should have been his first clue into the mystery known as Mac. That should have been the ruler he lived by. She kept her feelings to herself so it was impossible to tell what she was really feeling. After all that time together, eight years of ups and downs, he should have known her; she should have known him. Eight – almost nine years, of coming together in times of need, of pulling apart in times of adversity, the personal and the professional - he acted like he knew her, but did he know her at all? He never would have picked Webb for her. Why did she? He didn't know why things didn't work out between them – they should have – if he had been right. But if he had been wrong, then he had just been living under a false assumption for the past two, three years. Why hadn't she corrected him? Or did she?

That morning he realized why he never acted on his feelings for her. It was Mac's ambiguity toward him that stopped him. Why should he try to achieve an objective if he knew he was going to get shot down? His ego wouldn't allow that, but it also was just good sense. So maybe Mac never really felt anything more than friendship for him. It could be true; Mac had issues with men. That wasn't his ego talking, she would admit that herself. Maybe what Harm read as interest was actually neurosis. Maybe she just didn't know how to have a male friend without all that other stuff getting in the way. Maybe she didn't know how to say 'NO' without it sounding like 'Not now.' Maybe it was Harm who couldn't hear the 'No' without interpreting 'not now.' Maybe it was also true that she no longer wanted his friendship. Maybe his pushing himself into her life – over and over again – was causing her more grief.

He thought back to the fantastical dream he had the night of Jennifer's promotion.

"_Your heart's desire is the road not taken. Take It!"_

What if that road was closed? What if that road was never actually open? What if Harm's heart's desire wasn't Mac heart's desire? What if the road not taken – his heart's desire – was never meant to be traveled? What if the reason it was his heart's desire was because it was the road that would never be traveled. It's easier to regret something that was never within reach.

Maybes. What ifs. There was too much guesswork. Too many ways to interpret the signs. Too many unknowns. Too many ways to make more mistakes. When too much is unknown, stick with the facts. The facts were her words.

"_I don't want to be your friend anymore, it hurts to damn much."_

The facts dictated that he step away - completely.

"Hey, Harm," Mattie called to him from the kitchen. "What is wrong with you? You look like you just lost your best friend."

Harm looked at Mattie who was actually making breakfast for him, and smiled. She was a constant joy in his life, even when she was driving him crazy. "Can't lose what you never had."

"Sure you can," she corrected. "You lose the hope."

"Touché," he grabbed the plates and the juice and went to the table. "Looks good."

"Practice for my Home Ec class."

"I see," he grinned at her. "I'm the tester."

"It's just scrambled eggs, Harm. Can't screw it up too much," she brought the pan over and dumped the runny eggs out on to his plate.

He looked un-appetized. "Thank you."

She sat down opposite and started eating. "You and Mac talking yet?"

"We were never NOT talking," he pushed the eggs away and opted for the toast.

"But you haven't seen her."

"We have both been pretty busy."

"Harm."

"Mac is in a weird place right now, and I don't think I can help her," he said quickly.

"Can I?" Mattie looked up.

"Be a good friend to her, I think that is enough."

"Why isn't that enough for you?" Mattie pressed.

"I will always be Mac's friend, but right now … now … I don't --."

"Too much other stuff?"

"Yeah, maybe," he looked away. "Maybe."

There was a calm silence before Mattie spoke again. "I'm gonna be late today – FYI."

"Thought we had a deal," he pulled his new 'fatherly' tone.

"Not that late – but I won't be home from school until 5 or 5:30."

"Why?"

She got defensive and defiant. "I have a meeting to go to."

He studied her for a moment. She didn't look happy or sad about the meeting, rather she looked resolved and like she didn't want to talk about it.

"Good." He realized she was attending an ALATEEN meeting. "How about I pick you up after and take you out to dinner."

"Pizza?"

"No pizza."

There was a knock on the door. Harm got up to answer it like nothing was strange about someone knocking on his door at 0700.

"I'm going to break you of this pizza habit if it kills me," he called over his shoulder.

She was clearing the table. "It's going to take someone better than you, commander."

Harm opened the door. On the other side was a woman he had never seen before but she looked familiar. She was very tall, with long light brown curly hair, a dimple on her chin and pale blue eyes like Mattie's.

Matted dropped the dishes that she was holding with a loud crash on the floor. Harm looked back at her. She was stunned, staring at the intruder.

"Mattie?" Harm called to her.

The woman spoke. "I'm Amanda Grace," she said confidently looking quickly between Harm and Mattie.

Harm looked back at her.

"I'm Mattie's aunt," she continued.

Harm looked back at her. "Mattie?"

"What are you doing here, Auntie Em?" Mattie said with a great deal of embarrassment.

1302 ZULU - Thursday, April 15, 2004

Dr. Gates Madden's Office

Central Intelligence Agency

Mac waited nervously for her second appointment with the CIA's shrink, Gates Madden. Mac had gone to see Commander McCool on Monday but because so much of what she needed to discuss was classified it was decided that she needed to see someone with higher clearance. At the agency they called it a 'debriefing' rather than a 'session.' She cursed herself for not being able to get past this thing with Sadik.

The doctor walked in, and took the chair next to Mac rather than her normal position behind the desk. Mac felt her stomach tighten. Something was up.

"Mac, I'm not sure I can help you." This doctor was nothing if not direct.

"What do you mean?" She was surprised.

"Strictly speaking you're showing no signs of PTS."

"Sleepless, anxious, flying off the handle;" Mac reminded her. "That is now considered normal behavior?"

"No, that is very unhealthy – but I don't feel that it's being brought on by the killing of Sadik – regardless of the buttons he pushed." The doctor was being a little cold in Mac's mind.

"I see."

"Mac, there are people all over the world who are sleepless, anxious and acting out in ways that aren't healthy – none of them had anything to do with Sadik," she explained.

"So you won't help me." It took so much for Mac to ask for help in the first place it killed her to be told that she didn't deserve the help.

"I didn't say that. What I'm saying is that I can't help you unless we open up to some other possibilities."

Mac chuckled. "Is this where you bring up the issues I have with my mother and father?"

"We could go back that far," the doctor admitted. "Those issues might have something to do with what is driving the current ones, but I don't think that is necessary."

Mac felt slightly relieved. "So what are you suggesting?"

"I say we work backwards."

"I don't understand."

"Did you sleep last night?" Madden asked.

"A few hours." Mac looked down. "On and off."

"What did you do when you couldn't sleep?"

"Was awake?" Mac didn't know how to answer that.

"Where you alone?"

"Yes."

"Did you stay in bed and toss and turn or did you get up? Make some warm milk. Fix yourself a stiff drink?"

"I don't drink," she stated thinking that she must have told the doctor that during the last session. "I'm an alcoholic."

"Ok, did you take a run? Read a book? Watch TV? Call a friend? Resort your CD collection? Darn some socks?"

Mac was shocked that the doctor just blew by the comment about her alcoholism. Most doctors would have asked about it. McCool certainly had. "No, I stared out the window."

"What were you looking at?"

"The trees?" Mac was becoming annoyed. "Doctor what are you looking for?"

"I'm not looking for anything specific; I want to know what you did when you couldn't sleep."

"I stared out the window; I watched the trees blow in the breeze." Mac shook her head. "I watched the street."

"What was happening on the street?"

"Cars driving by." Mac was still confused.

"Any cars in specific?"

"Not that I recall." If this were a courtroom, Mac would have objected to this line of questioning demanding to know the relevance.

The doctor got up and went to the window and looked down to the parking lot. "Ya know Mac, when I watch cars drive by, I'm thinking of the people I know that have cars like the ones I see, or I'm looking for my car, or my husband's car … and I don't have a husband."

"Ok." Mac stiffened. It occurred to her for the first time that she did think she saw Harm's Vette and thought he might be checking on her. And on several occasions she saw a taxi drive passed and had a brief panicked fantasy that Clay was going to stop by. It also occurred to her that she never knew if Webb drove his own car, a company car or took a cab the nights he visited her. She never thought to ask.

"You didn't?" the doctor pursued.

"Didn't what?"

"Notice any familiar vehicles?"

"No," she lied.

"Ok. Enough with the cars and the windows." The doctor knew she was lying, and needed to move past it. "Do you usually sleep alone?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I know that you're not married, but are you involved with someone?"

"Yes," Mac said confidently. For some reason she thought everyone knew. That it would be posted on the CIA bulletin board or in the employee newsletter.

"Why didn't you call him?" the doctor asked.

"He is out of the country."

"Is he out of the country a lot?" the doctored pulled.

"You ought to know." Mac was becoming annoyed with her appearance at not knowing the Clay and Mac were lovers.

"Why should I know?" the doctor said.

Mac gave her a look.

"Oh – I see. You're dating an agent."

Mac nodded.

The doctor opened the file. "Clayton Webb?"

Mac looked nervous. "Yes."

"So you knew Webb before your mission to find Sadik?"

"Yes, we have known each other for years."

The doctor nodded. "Were you dating before you went to Paraguay?"

"No."

"Did you want to?" The doctor was relentless. "Is that why you took the assignment, so you could be closer to him? To work with him? Maybe change the status of your relationship?"

Mac spine got very tight. "That isn't why I took the assignment."

"You posed as his pregnant wife, Mac," the doctor stated as if that contradicted Mac's defense.

"And?"

"That isn't typical behavior for a US Marine lawyer." The doctor closed the file. "Why did you take the assignment?"

"I was asked to."

"Do you always do what you're asked to do?"

"I beg your pardon?" Mac was on her feet.

"I'm asking – do you always do what you're asked to do?"

"Not always."

"But often."

"Usually when I'm asked to do something like that, it's an order."

"Did your commanding officer order you to take this assignment?"

"No, in fact he told me that I didn't have to."

"Yet, you did and posed as your current lover's pregnant wife."

Mac's eyes flared red at her interpretation. "If you want to describe it that way."

"How would you describe it?"

"I was asked to go undercover to stop one hundred stinger missiles from getting into the wrong hands – potentially saving thousands of lives."

"By putting your own life in jeopardy?" the doctor added.

"Yes."

"Duty?"

"Yes."

"Honor?"

"Yes."

"God, country and corps?"

"Yes."

"Did you sleep with Webb before you were captured?"

The question took Mac off guard. "Doctor this is outrageous."

"I'm trying to understand when it was that your feelings for the man that put your life in jeopardy changed."

"I knew the risks when I took them."

"There is no doubt about the fact that it was your decision – the mission and the relationship." The doctor didn't back down. "So when did your feelings for him change?"

"During our time in captivity."

"But you weren't sleeping with him then." It wasn't a question.

"No."

"When did that change?"

"Recently," Mac said softly.

"Recently? How recently?"

"A little over a month ago," Mac was embarrassed.

"Right after the incident with Sadik."

The doctor was right. She hadn't slept with Webb until after Sadik was dead. "We had been dating – or rather attempting to date since our return from Paraguay."

"Why only attempting?"

"For the first four months he was recovering from his injuries."

"Injuries suffered during the time you were held by Sadik," the doctor corrected.

"Yes." Mac got annoyed. "I thought you said that this wasn't about Sadik."

"Please continue – the first four months he was recovering …"

"And then he went back to work and was out of the country."

"Often, I gathered," the doctor said. "Then your relationship changed. Was that also your decision?"

"Yes – I mean it was OUR decision."

"You discussed it?"

Mac looked away and took a chair on the other side of the room. There was no discussion when she had jumped Webb that first night. She had made the decision and he was ready willing and able to comply. But it wasn't discussed.

"I see," the doctor said. "Has it been satisfying?"

Mac glared back at this brazen woman. She wasn't about to discuss the quality of sexual relations between Clay and herself.

"The change in the relationship, I mean." The doctor saw her anger. "Is it satisfying? Are you comfortable with the change? How do you like being the significant other to a spy who disappears for weeks on end doing God knows what with God knows who? It's not like being involved with a plumber or a lawyer."

Mac laughed. For the first time the doctor seemed to trip on her words. It allowed Mac to be more honest then she knew. "I never thought that Clay would be the kind of man I was interested in nor was he the kind of man I expected to marry and have a family with."

"I see." The doctor leaned back in her chair. "But he is that type of man now?"

"Yes." Mac made the next statement to prove her point. "I love him and he loves me."

"Have you talked about marriage?"

"Not specifically?"

"A family?"

"No."

"I see."

"What do you see?" Mac challenged.

"I see that you're serious about this – but -."

"Clay is too."

"I believe you."

"What do you believe?"

"I believe that falling in love with someone you have known platonically for years after enduring a harrowing intense life altering experience together can feel very serious – profound even."

"Serious?"

"Dangerous too."

"How?"

"To your head."

"We shared something very big and it brought us closer."

"I can see that."

"But," Mac pulled.

"I'm just wondering about the motivation for this change of feelings so many months after the initial event?"

"What are you driving at?"

"Did you all of a sudden discover how much you had in common? How much you enjoyed each other's company? Was it a purely chemical reaction that was heighten by the experience? Or -."

"Or what?"

"Well, love and feelings of love can be confusing and complicated especially if you kill for the man you love."

"Excuse me?" Mac said quietly.

"You killed the man that tortured your boyfriend nearly to death."

Mac felt the room closing in on her.

"That is a pretty powerful emotion. Killing for love."

Mac still didn't move.

"Did you know that you loved Webb enough to kill for him?"

Mac shook her head. "Sadik was a sick and twisted man that needed to be taken out."

"Right." The doctor confirmed. "Like taking out the trash."

Mac's words came back to her. Could McCool have told Madden what she said?

"So you killed for your man and that earned you the right to be compensated accordingly."

"What?"

"You killed for him – he should love you – he should make love to you – he should prove his love to you – as you proved it to him."

"I'm not some dumb teenager, doctor." Mac was livid at her implication.

"How much of your feelings for Webb – then and now – were motivated by guilt?"

"Guilt?" Mac felt like a rag doll being dragged across the emotional spectrum. "I beg your pardon?"

"Guilt. Webb needed months to recover from his injuries and you were able to go back to work the next day."

Mac did not answer.

"I'm not saying that you should have felt guilty – it was his assignment, he brought you into it – but it's a natural reaction. He suffered tremendously and you came out of it relatively unscathed – at least physically."

Mac didn't answer.

"Why were you unharmed?"

"Agent Webb took the brunt of the torture to save me."

There was a long moment of silence. "You do know that there was nothing that Webb said or didn't say that would have prevented Sadik from doing what he wanted to do. Webb may have thought he was protecting you, I am sure you believe that Webb was protecting you – but the only person who can take the credit for you not being tortured is Sadik himself."

Mac looked up at her.

"He was giving the orders. If he had wanted you dead, or hurt in anyway – Webb would have been helpless."

It hadn't occurred to Mac before, but the doctor was right.

"The fact that Sadik came to find you after eight months – find you and not kill you – is proof of that. Sadik clearly had other plans for you."

Mac was silent as she pondered the doctor's comment.

"Who are Victor Galindez and Harmon Rabb?"

"Who are they?" How was Mac supposed to answer that, it was only a fifty-minute hour?

"It says in the file that they affected the rescue of both you and Agent Webb. Galindez took Webb for medical treatment and you and Rabb followed the stingers and destroyed them – almost killing yourselves in the process."

Mac was now annoyed at the level of detail in the report. "Does it also tell you what I was wearing?" she said snidely.

"Galindez was USMC on TAD to the CIA and Rabb – well it doesn't say much about him. Why was he there?"

Mac got up and crossed to the window. After a long moment she answered. "He was looking for me."

"It says here that he had resigned his commission as a Navy Commander days before you were rescued."

Mac turned to the doctor and tried to stare her down. "As I said he was looking for me."

"Is that why he resigned his commission?"

Mac looked away. "You will need to ask him that."

"I'm asking you."

"Yes."

"Wow. You two must be very close," she stated.

Mac didn't answer.

"Most men don't give up their careers for just any woman."

Mac didn't respond.

"Were you and Rabb lovers?"

"No," she didn't look back at the doctor.

"But there was something more than a friendship between you."

"We have known each other for a very long time."

"As long as you have known Webb?"

Mac looked back at the doctor. "In fact, yes. I met them hours apart."

"Yet you worked with Rabb daily – or very nearly daily – for eight years."

"Yes."

"Must have some guilt surrounding that too."

"Guilt?"

"A man gives up his career and nearly gets himself killed to save your life and you turn to another man."

"It really wasn't like that."

"You and this Rabb person were never more than co-workers? Associates? Friends?"

Mac didn't answer.

"It's obvious that he felt some serious sense of obligation to you, Mac." The doctor started. "But who is Harmon Rabb to you?"

Mac looked back out the window. Her fifty minutes were up. Was the doctor going to let her go?

1418 ZULU - Thursday, April 15, 2004

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, VA

Coates knocked on Harm's open door. "Sir, Ms. Grace is here to see you."

Harm and Jennifer shared a tense look. "Thank you Petty Officer, please show her in."

Harm was standing behind his desk when Amanda Grace breezed in like the answer to all problems.

Amanda "Em" Grace and Harm had met briefly on Wednesday morning when she showed up out of the blue. Mattie's reception of her wasn't as cool as Harm would have expected it to be. Em was Mattie's mother's sister – her twin sister. There was a reason she had been out of the picture for the past two years or longer. Mattie knew what it was, but didn't open up to Harm, at least not yet. Honestly there hadn't been much time. Mattie had gone to dinner with Em the night before. Harm and she didn't talk too much in the morning. Harm didn't want to push. He felt very out of place.

"Commander," she said brightly with a warm smile on her face. "Thank you for seeing me without an appointment."

He nodded and gestured for her to have a seat. "May I get you something, water? Coffee?"

"I have had Navy coffee, commander," she laughed. "No thank you."

"What can I do for you?" He sat down.

"Well I'm sure you're wondering about me," she declared without a shade of remorse or regret. "And to be honest I'm more than curious about you."

"It had crossed my mind to ask where you have been and why you're here now."

"Direct," she said. "I like that in a man. Rare," she leaned comfortably back in the chair. "You can relax commander; I'm not here to rip Mattie away from you. In fact, you have been very good for her."

"Thank you," he tried to relax. "Mattie has been very good for me as well."

"I can't speak to that, but that leads me to my first question. Why has a single man with an active career chosen to take on a fifteen year old girl that he didn't know from Adam?"

Harm chose his words carefully. "I like her. I liked her from the moment I met her. She was in trouble and needed someone's help. She let me help her."

She studied him for a moment. "So you're the heroic type, huh?" She leaned forward. "Do you help all women in distress?"

Harm ignored her comment. "When was the last time you saw Mattie?"

"That last time I saw her or the last time I spoke to her?"

"You have spoken to her recently?"

"Every Sunday for the past four years," she looked confused. "Mattie didn't tell you about me?"

"No."

"Well she didn't tell me about you either," she laughed a little. "Hell, she didn't tell me about any of it. I thought she was still living with Jake and Martha Johnson."

"She ran away from them a long time ago."

"I know that now. Finally spoke to them last week. The Grace's and the Johnson's aren't on friendly terms."

"I understand that."

"The last time I saw Mattie – hell the last time I saw any of them was right after my sister's death." She looked away. "I tried to get Mattie to go with me then, but she refused. She was bound and determined to continue to run that stupid crop dusting business."

"She lost that about five months ago." Harm said.

"She didn't lose it." The woman flipped her hair back. "It was stolen from her. I'm surprised that you – being a lawyer – didn't look into it."

"I did. There was nothing I could do. Johnson had taken out a note against the field, and Grace Aviation wasn't making enough money to keep up the payments."

"Well, commander," she said a little slyly. "If you looked a little deeper you would have realized that Johnson didn't have the authority to sign a note on the field, he was not married to my sister at the time."

"I did not receive confirmation of their divorce," he defended. "Mattie never said -."

She interrupted. "I'm taking steps to recover what was stolen," she stated confidently. "Would you care to help?"

"Anything I can do," he said.

A smile spread across her face. "I'm sure something will come up."

She was flirting with him he thought. She was a remarkable woman – well from the nothing he knew about her – she seemed remarkable.

"I have paid the note on the house," she continued. "And I understand that you're owed five months mortgage."

"Unnecessary," he waved her off.

"All the same, I'm having a check cut for you and delivered. It should be here this afternoon."

Red flags were waving in Harm's face. She wanted something. "Why are you here?"

"Again, bold and direct," she soothed.

He braced himself against it. He knew she was trying to disarm him. It hadn't work, yet.

"I'm here to see that my sister's wishes are carried out. She wanted Mattie to have Grace Aviation and the house, and by God she will have it."

"Who are you?" He asked.

She laughed at that.

"You say you're not here for Mattie, yet You're doing everything in your power to ---"

"Woo her?"

"Exactly."

"Maybe I am," she got a little more serious. "Mara, my sister," she smiled sadly. "We were the Amazing Grace sisters. Amara and Amanda Grace – queens of the air. She was the only family that I had in the world – now there is only me and Mattie."

Harm looked down, he understood about being alone.

"I loved my sister, commander. Walking away from her was the worst mistake I have ever made."

"Walking away?"

"We had a falling out several months before her death. I told her if she continued on the path that she was going, she would be dead within a year," she took a deep breath. "Being right is no consolation."

"I don't understand."

"I could have - I should have forced her to get help."

"Get help?"

"My sister was an alcoholic, commander," she stated a little too casually. "She was driving."

Harm looked confused. "Mattie told me that her father was driving."

She laughed. "And it never occurred to you to wonder why Johnson wasn't in jail for manslaughter? Reckless endangerment? Drunk driving?" She snorted again. "Are you sure you're a lawyer?"

Harm looked a little shamed that it hadn't occurred to him. "Mattie said --."

"I'm sure you can understand that Mattie changed some of the facts to fit her needs."

Harm shook his head. He didn't understand.

"It's easier to hate the living than it is to hate the dead."

Harm was silent for a moment trying to fully grasp what Em was saying.

"Mattie isn't entirely wrong. Johnson is to blame in many ways. He was a drunk - still is I suppose. They drank together. One thing Mara never did was drink and drive – not since the time she wrapped her car around a telephone pole with Mattie in the back seat. Mattie was just a baby then."

Em got up and started walking around the room.

"Oh, she still drank, but she would never get behind the wheel with even one beer under her belt," she laughed. "Hell, she never renewed her license."

"Why did she then?" he asked. "Why did she get in the car that night?"

"Johnson had caused a scene at the bar. The owner called and threatened to throw him in jail if she didn't come down and get him. Even though they weren't married anymore – they were still very involved. Mara was a sucker for that man – had been since she was – hell since she was Mattie's age," she got a little distant and thought back to a simpler time.

"Go on," he encouraged.

"That bastard was still working at Grace Aviation. She couldn't afford to lose a days labor out of him. So she went to get him with a fifth of Jack Daniels in her. She never made it home," she looked away. "I'm only sorry she didn't take him with her."

Her coldness toward Mattie's father rivaled Mattie's. "Mattie knows this?" he asked.

"Mattie knows. She was 13 when my sister died. She knew all about it." She heaved a heavy sigh and sat back down. "She may not be ready to admit it. But she knows the truth."

Harm thought about Mattie and her anger toward her father. Some how it made more sense to him now.

"Harm, I'm the only real family that Mattie has. The Johnson's are all worthless."

"So where have you been? How could you let her be by herself for so long?"

"I called her – a lot – and kept asking her to come live with me in Alaska. I run a floatplane business in Fairbanks. I didn't know that Johnson had taken off until three weeks ago. Mattie is very good at lying or at least not telling the whole truth."

Harm was still confused about what were the truths and what were the fabrications.

"Anyway – she missed her weekly phone call the past four weeks. I started calling. I found out Johnson was in rehab, and she was living with some navy commander. I got here as soon as I could."

"To do what?"

"I'm not going to let Mattie live with just anyone. If I think you would hurt her in anyway, I will fight tooth and nail to get her back."

Harm felt the challenge.

"On the other hand, if you're what is best for Mattie – I will adjust."

"I see."

"But you have to know, commander. She is a young woman – or soon will be – for a man who has never been married, it's only going to get more difficult from here on out."

"We are working through our problems."

"I expect that you are." The words that followed stung Harm to the core. "Don't you think it's strange that a forty year old man is interested in taking care of a sixteen year old girl?"

He studied her for a moment. He was still not quite sure if she were an enemy, a friend, or just another hurdle to clear. "Just what are you implying?"

"I'm implying nothing – just want to know what your motivations are."

He felt the exact same way about her. "So now what?"

"Now you and I need to get to know each other," she smiled brightly at him, which did disarm him. "Why don't we discuss this over dinner tonight – I'll cook."

She was incredible. From accusing him of something heinous to inviting herself to his house to cook, she was all over the place. Under any other circumstances, he would want to get to know better. She was bringing a fight out in him that he hadn't felt in a long time. The best part was that she was taking the initiative. "Ok. Dinner it is."

She stood up and moved to the door. "I'll be there by seven."

Harm watched her go. He had no idea what to think about that little spitfire. He wanted to like her. He wanted to do a lot more. But he didn't trust her.


	4. 04

Title: **Switching Tracks**

Chapter Four

By: LizD

Spoilers: Alternate Ending to Season Nine – Spoilers Though The Death of Sadik

Notes: Written before the last five shows of Season Nine Aired

Written: April/May 2004

**Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.**

Switching Tracks – Part Four

90% of Getting There is Heading in the Right Direction

1229 ZULU – Thursday, April 22, 2004

USS Seahawk

Somewhere in the Mediterranean

The CAG and Harm stood on the weather deck watching, with great interest, the landing of an F-14. The pilot was Lt. Commander Mark "Madman" Watson, not a pilot that Harm had a lot of confidence in. The person in the backseat was not a RIO, in fact she was not even in the Navy. One could go so far as to argue she had no business in the back seat of an F-14; they aren't the Navy's taxi service after all. Who was back there? It was Colonel Sarah MacKenzie.

Second attempt. "Too high," Harm said. "Too high," he shook his head as the plane took the wave off for the second time. Harm looked over at the CAG. They shared a knowing look. The CAG excused himself to go down to the LSO platform.

Harm could already imagine what kind of mood she was in. She was TAD to an aircraft carrier as defense in a case Harm was prosecuting, the only transport available was a Tomcat with a pilot who was not the smoothest flyer in this man's Navy and she had to endure at least two failed attempts at a trap. The fact that she had never experienced a successful trap should shake a few more nerves. Harm swallowed hard. She would be fit to be tied and of course it would be his fault. Wait until she heard that they are sharing a cabin due to limited space. This was shaping up to be a really wretched couple of days. There was no getting around it. They were going to have to talk if only to discuss the case and enough to know when to stay out of the quarters. Harm and Mac had not talked seriously since that Sunday night. She had been easy to avoid; she was not around much. Harm was also pretty preoccupied with Aunt Em.

Harm and Em had had dinner several times – sometimes with Mattie and sometimes alone. Harm had to admit Em was fun and very attractive, they actually had a lot in common: flying, music, books. She was even a lay lawyer for a small town in northern Alaska. But there was still a part of him that felt like she was just playing him so she could woo Mattie. Harm didn't know how to feel about that. Would Mattie be better off with a relative – a female relative? Em was strong willed enough to handle Mattie and was apparently more familiar with the family history. An idea was germinating in his head that Mattie some how picked up on.

"Why don't you and Em hook up, Harm?" she declared one night after dinner thankfully after Em had left. "One big happy family," Harm was not sure if Mattie meant it to be funny or if she were sincere.

"What?"

"You need a woman. Em is more than attracted to you –."

"Mattie!"

"And you two seem to get along," she added ignoring his scolding.

Harm was embarrassed that she so blatantly voiced his tentative thoughts. "Mattie, please don't match make for me."

"You like her don't you?"

"Sure," he said quickly. "She is family."

"I don't like most of my family."

"You like her."

"Yeah, she is pretty cool."

"So why didn't you tell me about her before?"

At that Mattie ended the conversation, feigning something about homework and quickly left. That was the other flag going off with Harm about Aunt Em. Mattie wouldn't talk about her much.

That conversation was the night before Harm was sent to the Seahawk to investigate the death of a pilot. He was not killed in action; he died of anaphylactic shock because he was given the wrong medication by the ship's corpsman. Due to the war in Iraq, the case would be handled aboard ship. Harm was prosecuting and Mac was defending. Butch and Sundance ride again; too bad it felt more like the north and the south facing off.

The third pass trapped the plane – Madman caught the wire late and hit the deck hard. Mac was never so glad to be on a ship in her life.

Harm went down to meet her as she descended from the plane. "Meet her head on, it was the only way," he convinced himself.

She unstrapped her helmet and glared at him. "Was that your idea, Hammer?" she was not amused.

"No," he took her bag from the petty officer sent to meet her and nodded for him to go. "That was," he nodded over to the other side of the plane.

Mac looked over and saw that the CAG was reading the riot act to the Madman.

"Is that because of me?" she asked.

"No, because of him," Harm smiled at her carefully. "He should be a better pilot and he shouldn't have been screwing around with a VIP in the backseat. It amounts to career suicide."

"Is he going to be grounded?"

"Pending review."

"But not because of me."

He nodded forward. "With me Colonel."

When they got inside they were able to speak in normal voices.

"I'm sorry that you were sent out here," he felt he needed to say something first.

"Why?" she attacked.

"Well – a number of reasons – but I know – forget it," he so much didn't want to fight with her.

"Go on, commander."

"Well, in case your flight has not set you up for it, I have another piece of bad news."

"Oh?" she gave him the look he was expecting.

"We are sharing a cabin," he watched her eyes darken. "But arrangements could be made, if you would prefer, to hot bunk down with the Special Forces unit – or I could sleep on deck," he tried to laugh.

"You and I are sharing a cabin?" she repeated.

He nodded.

"Sharing a bunk?"

"No," he shrugged. "Just the air," he wanted to add that they could kill each other in private, but thought better of it.

She read his smirk as a smile, like he was enjoying it too much. "You think I can't handle that, commander?"

"I'm sure you can, colonel. You are nothing if not professional," he stated, "But I'm pretty clear that it would not be your first choice of accommodations."

"Nor second or third," she stated.

He looked annoyed. It was so much easier a long time ago when they got a long.

"But it ranks well above hot bunking with some jarhead or sleeping on the deck."

She walked ahead of him. Harm felt that there might be a thaw.

Mac met with her client and discussed the case. He was a young kid who was overloaded and over his head. There was no history of allergy with the Lt. Commander who died so there was no reason to believe that anything would happen. However, and this is the big however, there was no one around in sickbay when the pilot went into shock. That was the corpsman's watch and he stepped away for five to fifteen minutes – the amount of time was still in debate. The captain – convening authority – wanted his blood, which meant that Harm and Mac could not deal.

They were able to stay out of each other's way for most of the rest of the day. They met for a briefing and agreed to share dinner with the CAG and another officer. There was some good-hearted ribbing about turning Mac into a RIO and she gave it back well. To everyone around them, everything appeared normal. That night Harm had taken a run around the ship to allow Mac time to do what she needed to do. He arrived back around 2300 local; she was up and working at the desk, prepared to go running herself. They passed with few words and Harm took the hint to be asleep by the time she got back. He wasn't but he pretended to be.

Hours passed. Harm was thinking about what was going on at home. He had talked to Mattie and she was planning on spending the weekend in Blacksburg with Em. They were going to do some spring-cleaning of the house. How could Harm say 'no', hell he wasn't even in town? He felt Mattie slipping away from him.

Mac's mind was spinning. She had forced herself to remain perfectly still for the past three hours so that Harm would think she was asleep, she knew he wasn't. Her mind was filled with a hundred different things. She had cancelled the last two appointments with Dr. Madden. She also turned Webb away when he showed up at her door at 0100 the night before.

"Sarah," Webb stood in her living room. "I came as soon as I could."

He was lying. She had seen him at the agency the week before on her way out of Dr. Madden's office. Whether he stayed in town or left again quickly she did not know. Mac did not call him, follow him or expect him to call her. She made no move at all to find out where he was.

"Not tonight Clay," she said. "I'm leaving for the Seahawk tomorrow and I need my sleep."

"Sarah, it has been almost a month," he was just short of begging.

"Yes, it has."

"Can we just talk for a while?" he asked. "I think there are things we need to talk about."

"There are a lot of things we need to talk about, but we aren't going to do it tonight."

"Are you still upset about Paris?"

Mac had to think about Paris. She had blocked it out of her mind. What weighed heavily on her mind now was when, how and why his feelings for her changed and when, how and why her feelings for him changed. She left Dr. Madden's office not agreeing with anything the woman had said, but everything she said made her think. Mac didn't felt guilty toward Clay, but he certainly did toward her. He said as much. He said it in Paraguay and numerous times since then. Was he really in love with her or did he just feel guilty? Was Mac doing what she always did; which was return affection regardless of her own feelings?

"Clay, go home," she stated. "I will call you when I get back and we will talk."

"Talk?"

"Talk," she reiterated. "Just talk."

Clay left and Mac got the first good night sleep she had had in a long time. Too bad that was shot to hell by a wretched plane ride, a hard landing and a shared a cabin with a man she also needed to talk to.

"Wanna talk about it?" Harm said in the darkness knowing full well that she was awake.

"Depends on what you think 'it' is?" she called down to the lower bunk.

"Well, something is keeping you awake and I know it's not my snoring," he gently nudged the bottom of her rack with his foot.

"You're awake – what is keeping you up?"

He paused for a moment trying to decide if he should play it straight, make some inappropriate joke or blow it off. "We could just play cards," he was going to blow it off.

"Strip poker?"

He laughed and then got quiet for a long moment. "I miss you Mac – I miss us." As soon as he said the word 'us' he felt he stepped over the line and that he just blew a hole in the moment.

"I do too," she said quickly so he would not back pedal too much.

The cabin was dark and only the night noises of the ship were drifting softly into their space. It would not take much for them to take that next step, but Harm felt that it had to be her. She was the one who pushed him away; she had to be the one to step up.

"Talk to me Harm. What is going on with you?" she adjusted herself on the rack so that she could hear him better but made no attempt to get down.

Harm's words shot out his mouth before he knew it. "Mattie has an aunt who is back in the picture."

"An aunt?"

"Aunt Em to be precise."

Mac smiled in the darkness. "Is she from Kansas?"

"Alaska – she is a bush pilot who runs her own company and makes a wicked salmon steak."

Mac felt something pull at her heart. "When did she arrive back on the scene?"

"A week or so ago."

"You think she wants to take Mattie back to Alaska."

Her ability to read him comforted him. "I do."

"What does Mattie think?"

"I don't know. She won't talk to me much about her, and I still haven't gotten why I just found out about this aunt."

"Aunt Em is…"

"Mattie's mother's twin sister," Harm stared up at the back of the bunk imagining Mac's soft eyes in her tender voice. "Apparently money is not an issue; she paid the note on the house and is attempting to get Grace Aviation back."

"That doesn't sound like a woman who is planning on packing up a fifteen year old girl and taking her to Alaska."

"No, no it doesn't."

"Could you be over reacting?"

"Me?" he laughed. "When do I ever over react?"

"You have been known to read the signs wrong, on occasion," Mac did not mean that the way it sounded – well she didn't mean to imply that he read her signs wrong – well he had read her signs wrong on numerous occasions, but she was not trying to rub his nose in it then.

"Yes, I have," he said quietly.

"Harm, don't make this be about anything else," she warned meaning 'anything else' equaling 'them.'

"Nope."

"I'm serious."

"I know." He brushed it aside. "Em also told me that Mattie's mother was driving the car and not Johnson."

"Really?" Mac edged closer to the side. "Did you ask Mattie about it?"

"No, but I did get a copy of the police report." He stated sheepishly.

"Without Mattie knowing?"

"Yes."

"That is not going to sit too well with her."

"Her mother was driving and had a blood alcohol over .13," Harm exhaled. "She lied to me Mac, I just want to understand why."

"Harm, you know why."

"Do I?"

"She can't blame her mother – her mother is dead," Mac sighed. "She has to pick the only target in range."

"Is that what you did?" he asked gently.

Mac paused. "Yeah," she took a deep breath. "I guess I do that a lot."

"Don't make this about anything else, Sarah," he said knowing that he asked the wrong question.

He called her Sarah. He rarely did that, Mac wondered why. "I owe you another apology, Harm," she rolled over on to her back.

"No you don't."

"I owe you lot more than an apology."

"Really, you don't," he wanted to get up so he could look at her, but he didn't.

"I'm sorry about what I said the other night."

"Sarah," he tried to stop her then he changed his mind. "What happened?" he laughed. "I mean I know what happened, why?"

"I took something out on you that I had no right to," she said ambiguously. "You were an easy target."

"Glad I could help," he snickered. "Are you going to tell me what I was the target for?"

"You don't want to get into the gory details and I really don't want you to know them."

She was thinking about Clay and that woman she saw him with and the lies that men tell women. Mac could have dealt with the truth – the woman was a target or a cover and he did what he had to do. But instead he lied - to her face he lied. When Mac saw Harm with Anna Levinson, and he claimed it wasn't a date – it was a lie too – at least Mac thought so.

"Ok," he was slightly put off.

"Don't be like that Harm."

"Like what?"

"Just know that I know I was wrong, and I'm sorry that I took it out on you," she was firm. "Ok?"

"Ok."

"Apology accepted?"

"Of course."

"I took your advice," she added. "That ought to win me a few points."

"My advice?"

"I went to see an agency psychiatrist."

"Part of the family medical plan?" The snide remark was out before he could stop it.

She felt herself tensing up and forced herself not to. "Rabb, your mouth is going to be the death of you one of these days."

"Sorry," he said biting back his tongue. "So you are talking to someone?"

Mac laughed at herself. "Well, I cancelled the last two appointments. Apparently twice was enough."

"So you are cured," he again nudged the bottom of her bunk.

"No, but now I have other things to think about when I lay sleepless at night."

He was quiet for a moment. "You should call me."

"You don't want to hear about what I'm thinking about," she warned.

"I can be a friend," he said simply. "No ulterior motive – I won't even diss your boyfriend."

"Diss?"

"Mattie taught me," he explained.

They were quiet for a moment.

"I mean it. I can listen - if it would help."

She laughed. "You could shut your mouth and just listen?"

"I've changed, Sarah."

She rolled back over on her side. "Why are you calling me 'Sarah' all of a sudden?"

"Don't know – I guess I always thought that when we started sleeping together that I couldn't call you 'Mac' anymore," he laughed.

"Hate to be the one to break it to you, Rabb – but we are not sleeping together: literally, figuratively or biblically."

"Got to give a man his dreams, counselor."

She was quiet for a long moment.

Harm waited patiently.

"You still awake?"

"I am."

"I let Sadik get inside my head," she said like a woman accepting a short fall.

He paused before he spoke. "Can you get him out?" he asked.

"He is out, but he opened a few doors on the way out," she exhaled. "Hell, he blew them off the hinges."

Harm waited for her to continue.

"He called me weak. He called me barren. He called me a whore," she said evenly. "He said the only way I would be truly free is with him. He was the only one who could protect me."

Harm was becoming enraged at a dead man. His first thought was to deny those accusations, but he knew that Sarah didn't believe them. Sadik got inside her head in some other way. He had to let her talk.

She continued. "But that was nothing, the worst thing that Sadik did; was to die by my hand. I killed him – I pointed my gun and I killed him with no other thought in my head than I wanted him dead," she sat up in her bunk and pulled her knees to her chest. "It was not self-dense Harm. I murdered him – I executed him – in cold blood."

He sat up too but made no attempt to get up.

She continued. "I lost control," she thought for a moment. "I have struggled with control my whole life. Control over my drinking, over my career, over my feelings for men, over the choices I make – it is all I have to hang on to – it is the only thing I have that is me. I gave it up because I wanted him dead."

Harm was silent trying to find the right words to say.

After a moment she asked. "Are you still listening?"

"Every word," he said quickly.

"So you understand now why I said that you wouldn't want anything to do with me if you knew."

"Nothing could be further from the truth," he responded. After a moment he continued. He told her what she already knew. "Sarah, you are so much more than what you control," he said gently. "You are more than your actions, you are more than your choices, you are more than the worst thing you have ever done in your life," he braved the next comment even though he knew it sounded like he was placating her. "Killing Sadik was not the worst thing you have ever done."

"It is damn close."

"Sarah, believe me when I say this – the man meant to kill you either by taking away your free will or your life. He would have killed you. You defended yourself."

"When you say it I almost believe it."

He heard the tears in her voice. "You already do believe it."

"How can you be sure?"

"Faith," he said softly. "Faith in you."

His words comforted enough for her to slide down into a fetal position.

"Sarah, I believe you did what you had to do given the situation you found yourself. No one should have been put in that position."

"I walked into it with my eyes open."

"Did you? Did you really?" he asked.

"I went looking for Sadik," she claimed.

"After he came looking for you." Something occurred to Harm. "He was responsible for my battery blowing up, wasn't he?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"He wouldn't have stopped there, Sarah. Who knows who he would have gone after next? Webb – again? The Admiral? Bud? Harriet? Little AJ?" Harm was again getting furious with a dead man and the havoc he wrecked and could have wrecked on their lives. "He would have used the people closest to you. He was determined to draw you out."

"I certainly hurried it along."

"You are a marine – you fight the fight head on," he said with a half smile that she heard. "Nothing to be ashamed about there. He attacked you Mac both physically and emotionally. You defended yourself – like you were trained to do."

"Yeah, Semper Fi," she said sarcastically.

"Semper Fi," he confirmed.

She was quiet for a long time. "Do you really believe in me so..."

"Completely."

"In all the decisions I make?"

He shook his head in the dark and closed his eyes. He could not bring up the decision she made about them or about Webb. "Well there was a hair cut that I really didn't agree with about six months ago," he laughed.

She laughed to.

"Sarah, I believe in you."

If he had said he loved her, she would not have felt closer to him at that moment. It was not as if Mac had no faith in herself, or even that she questioned her actions with Sadik any more, it was more like she was learning about Harm and about what he thought about her. She let her hand drape over the side of the bunk. Harm saw it in the dark and reached up and took it.

"Thank you Harm," she said softly. "Thank you for everything you have done for me."

"Welcome," he was hard pressed to get out those two syllables without his voice cracking.

"I'm sorry I have been so wretched to you."

"I'm no saint," he said. "I'm sorry too."

After a moment she asked. "Can I still be your friend?"

It would have been so easy to pull her down into his arms and kiss her and put all that other crap to bed too; she probably even wanted it. But he couldn't, it had to be her idea. "Absolutely," he said.

She squeezed his hand. "I think I can sleep now," she said yawning.

He pressed her hand back. "Good."

"You too?"

"Yeah, me too."

"Things are going to be OK with Mattie – you know," she said. "It will work out."

"Yeah?" he said sadly.

"Mattie loves you," she wondered if she should tell him the secret. "She told me that she did."

Harm smiled in the darkness. "Thank you."

She let go of his hand and rolled over to face the wall. He slid down to the cot and faced the room. Each of them allowed their breathing to slow, but neither one closed their eyes. Now there were more things to think about.


	5. 05

Title: **Switching Tracks**

Chapter Five

By: LizD

Spoilers: Alternate Ending to Season Nine – Spoilers Though The Death of Sadik

Notes: Written before the last five shows of Season Nine Aired

Written: April/May 2004

**Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.**

Switching Tracks – Part Five

Is That Light At the End of the Tunnel From An On Coming Train?

0719 ZULU – Saturday, April 24, 2004

USS Seahawk

Somewhere in the Mediterranean

"Harm!" Mac cried out. "Harm, I can't do this! … No! … Don't! … Harm, I don't know how! … Take it! … Damn it, Harm! … Harm? … Harm, where are you? … Harm?"

"Mac? Mac, wake up." Harm placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.

At his touch she jolted awake. Confusion faded from her eyes as she realized where she was. "What is going on?" she demanded.

"Bad dream, I guess," he laughed a little and stepped back away from her. At least he was in her dream.

She sat up and breathed deeply to stop her heart from racing. "Wow. That was weird," she ran a hand through her hair.

Harm watched her waiting for the explanation.

She looked over at him and laughed. "You bastard."

"Me? It was your dream," he defended.

"You were forcing me to land the plane," she shook her head.

"That's no dream, that's a nightmare."

"We were flying to … somewhere …" She got confused. She looked at him quickly. "You're not going to believe this, but we were flying to Iran … in an F-14."

"Iran?"

"We were going to pick up AJ … little AJ … for his birthday."

"Why was he in Iran?"

She shook her head. "I don't remember," she thought for a moment. "No, no, no, I do. He left his plane there … the one you gave him for Christmas … only it wasn't … it was … remember … the stealth plane."

"Stealth plane?" The words burst out of his mouth unchecked. "Told you not to eat that pepperoni pizza last night." The ridiculousness of it was just plain silly. He went back to the file he had been reading before she so rudely interrupted.

Mac threw her legs over the bunk still trying to remember the dream. "You told me to land the plane."

He looked back at her like she was crazy. "Are you sure you just didn't take the controls from me?"

"You said something like 'on a need to know basis, I needed to know.'" She looked at him questioning. "Why would you say that?"

"I wouldn't."

"And this I remember clearly," she smiled nicely at him. "You said that I could do anything I set my mind to."

"Shouldn't take that so literally," he laughed.

Her faced puzzled again. "And then you were gone?"

He looked back to his file. "Probably punched out to save my own hide."

"No, you were just gone and I was … at the controls … trying to land … on the deck."

"The deck of what?" he snickered. "Iran has a deck?"

"No, no, no, it was that deck of a ship," she squinted her eyes again. "There was someone behind me screaming at me. … A man … 'Call the ball,' he said – over and over again. He said that we were too high and too low and too fast and too slow … that we were going to crash."

"I'm sure there were lots of people screaming that you were going to crash."

She ignored him. "He said that if I didn't, I was going to ruin it for the both of us," she closed her eyes to remember who it was.

"Ruin it? More like kill us all," he was not looking at her.

Mac remembered who it was. It was Webb, or was it Mic, or Dalton? One of those. She looked up at Harm just as he was taking a side-glance at her.

"What? It wasn't me," he defended. "I was just sitting here minding my own business when you -."

"No," she held his stare as she shook the thoughts out of her head.

"No? No, what? I wasn't sitting here?"

"No – it wasn't you," she shook her head one last time to finish it. "I'm sorry. Forget it," she exhaled the dream.

"Who was it?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter," she wiped her hands over her face. "It was just a dream."

"And a cigar is just a cigar."

"Thank you, Dr. Freud."

Harm turned in the chair to look at her. He was serious. "Mac if you really don't want to fly with me today, you can wait for the COD. It won't be here until Monday, but I'm sure they will let you stay here until then. I won't be offended, really."

"Don't be ridiculous."

With all that was going on in Iraq, the death of the Lt Commander and the grounding of Watson, pilots, planes and transports were at a premium. There was a mission to fly that day and the CAG could not wait for the Monday COD. So a decision was made. The replacement pilots were set to arrive at Naval Air Station Sigonella in Sicily that morning. Harm would fly to Sicily and the pilots would return immediately. It was decided that Mac would "go along for the ride" since the case had been resolved (the corpsman changed his plea to guilty and accepted the consequences). They would then pick up a military flight back to Andrews. She had not been impressed with the arrangements, but was not about to share that with anyone. She had flown with Harm before and three out of the four times they had had hard landings – very hard landings.

"Really, I won't be offended," he looked away. "If you're not comfortable enough to get in a plane with me, I can live with that."

"Harm – it was just a dream," she stated hopping down. "I'm not worried for myself. I'm sure we will survive this trip too – it's the plane I'm worried about," she grinned.

"Your confidence is under-whelming," he turned back away.

"Besides – the people in dreams are rarely who they are supposed to be."

"What does that mean?"

"Maybe in my dream you were – I don't know – me – or the flying squirrel from Rocky and Bullwinkle?"

"And who were you?"

She shook her head. "Who knows? – Natasha."

"Well if I'm playing other characters in your dreams I want a multi-player contract."

"Funny," she stretched and shivered a bit. "It was pretty vivid though."

"You should write it down before you forget and ask your shirk," he said over his shoulder.

"What is she going to tell me that I don't know?" Mac asked.

"You're seeing a female shrink?"

"So?"

"Really? I just assumed that it would be a guy – a man – a male doctor."

"Chauvinist."

"Chauvinist? Me?" he was amused.

"Born and bred," she confirmed.

"Don't let my mother hear you say that."

"She knows."

"I like women." He defended. "Hell, I even respect some of them."

"You just wouldn't talk to one about your most intimate thoughts," she added.

"Can you blame me?" he flashed his best flyboy grin.

"Harm, remember what I said about your mouth?" she continued without waiting for a response. "Well you're drifting out into open – read: unprotected – waters again."

"So I should shut up."

"Good idea."

"But I do like women," he scanned her up and down with a smile and added under his breath, "Some more than others."

"I'm ending this," she grabbed her gear to go shower and dress.

"So, you gonna fly with me?" he stopped her before she could leave.

"Are you going to make me land the plane?"

"Not on a bet."

"Ok," she walked out.

"You have sixty minutes," he called down the passage.

0939 ZULU – Saturday, April 24, 2004

Naval Air Station, Sigonella, Sicily

Harm and Mac were making their way across the tarmac.

"Come on, Colonel," he wrapped his free arm loosely around her shoulder. "Admit it, that was fun."

"I don't have to admit anything of the kind," she laughed at him pushing his arm away playfully. "You're dangerous and should have your wings clipped."

"I got you up and I got you down, what more can you ask of a pilot?" he added quietly, "Or a man."

"How about all my internal organs put back to their original locations."

"Just a couple of Gs Mac. Let's you know you're alive."

She smirked at him.

"Come on – we have time to grab some lunch before we have to catch our ride."

"Lunch?" she teased. "Lost my appetite on that landing."

If truth were told, she was enjoying the ease with which she and Harm were relating. They had worked very well together on the case and were actually able to stay friendly sharing a room. Harm was respectful and real and she dropped her defensiveness. In spite of the seriousness of the incident, they actually had a good time. Were the old feelings resurfacing?

"Sarah!" a familiar voice called from the hanger.

Harm and Mac both looked up to see Clayton Webb making his way toward them. If Harm had some feelings about the spy's presence, they did not show in his expression. Mac's shock was apparent, but she felt no embarrassment either for Webb or Harm.

"Clay? What are you doing here? How did you find me?" she asked. Looked like she still had more questions than answers when it came to Webb.

"Sarah," he said again as he approached and kissed her.

Harm smiled. He didn't know why – but he felt prepared the first time he saw them together as a couple. He was OK with it.

"Webb," he said as he put out his hand. It occurred to Harm that he had not seen Webb since that day in the hospital, nearly a year ago. How strange, a man he thought about almost every day not in the most flattering terms, and there he was face to face with him. He looked smaller than Harm remembered - insignificant.

"Rabb." Webb returned the handshake. As usual, Webb telegraphed none of his feelings. Spy training served him well.

"Clay, what are you doing here?" Mac asked again.

"Chegwidden told me where I could find you."

"The admiral?" she asked.

Just then a petty officer came up to them. "Excuse me, sir, ma'am, sir?" he started.

"Go ahead." Harm commanded.

"Departure time has been pushed up - fifteen minutes. We have one place available; the next one won't be for several hours – maybe even tomorrow."

"Let Rabb take it," Webb chimed in. "I have us booked first class to New York, Sarah."

"First Class." Harm raised an eyebrow in mock envy as he smiled at Mac.

"New York?" Mac asked.

"We are booked into the Plaza and we have dinner reservations at Peter Luger. You're going to have the best steak of your life."

Mac looked over at Harm unsure of what she was supposed to say.

"I'm a fish man myself." Harm felt the dismissal from Webb if not from Mac. "But you kids have a great time," he patted her shoulder.

"Sir, I'm sorry." The petty officer said again. "If you're interested, I need to know now – or there are others who would gladly take your spot."

"Thank you." Harm said. "I'll take it," he looked back at Webb. "Probably won't even have a movie on this flight," he grinned.

Webb knew that he bested Harm, and he loved how hard Harm tried not to show that he knew he had been bested.

"Mac – see you back at JAG," he dropped her bag next to Webb and moved off.

"Right," she nodded to his retreating back never really taking her eyes off of Webb. "Thanks for the lift."

Harm looked back over his shoulder before he boarded the plane. Webb and Mac were still talking where he had left them, but there was nothing that was going to convince him that there was 'trouble in paradise.' They looked – how would Rabb describe it - like a couple, like a normal couple in a normal conversation about normal things. Did he envy them? He envied him. He looked away and was glad he didn't have to fly back to the states with them. There was only so much acceptance Harm should be expected to give.

The flight back was horrendous. It took him more than eighteen hours to get home – it would have taken longer but he caught a lucky break on the last leg. They were diverted to Germany, to Newark, and eventually to Andrews – dropping people off, picking people up – if was beginning to take on more of an Amtrak feel than a military transport. So it was eighteen hours of adjusting to find a comfortable spot, or listening to the marines on the plane talk about their experiences in Iraq, or giving out legal advice. In the quiet time he had, he replayed the image of the Webb/MacKenzie couple in his mind. They looked good together, he thought. Maybe Webb could give Mac what she really wanted; maybe he would even take the time to figure out what that was. He really did want Sarah to be happy. He wanted to find some of that kind of happiness too. Was Sarah his only hope? No, he could find it with someone and hopefully he had learned enough from his mistakes to not make them again. By the time the plane touched down at Andrews, Harm had moved on – again – this time his 'look back' response had been turned off.

0549 ZULU – Sunday, April 25, 2004

Rabb Residence

Harm let his exhausted self in grateful for the knowledge that he would be taking a long, hot shower in his own shower and sleeping in his own bed. Mattie should still be with Aunt Em in Blacksburg and not due back until the afternoon. He could sleep late and enjoy the quiet for a change. Having a teenager really did change his life. He never felt like he was alone or had time to think his own thoughts. When they moved into the house it would be worse, she would be in the other room rather than down the hall in her own apartment. But they would figure it out. They would figure it out if they were given the opportunity.

He dropped his bag by the door and proceeded to the refrigerator – he needed a beer. The light of the refrigerator cast shadows on the mess that was left in the kitchen: dirty dishes, pizza boxes, beer bottles and glasses. He turned on the light above the sink. It was a mess. He never left his place in such disarray.

"Hey," a voice came from the bedroom. "Turn the damn light off."

Harm's ire was up – way up. Who the hell was sleeping in his bed? He walked over and flipped the light on in the room.

"Damn it!" Em Grace sat up annoyed. "Oh. You're back."

"Em?" he was stunned to see the woman in his bed. He was also stunned to see that probably ever article of clothing she had was strewn around the room.

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. "You weren't supposed to be back until tomorrow, commander."

"In light of the fact that you're wearing my favorite t-shirt and sleeping in my bed, you should call me Harm," he was not happy.

She looked down at the rag of a Navy t-shirt Mattie had found for her to sleep in. "Right. Harm," she finally looked embarrassed under his gaze. "Guess you're wondering why I'm here," her words slurred.

"The question had crossed my mind." The slurred words did not go unnoticed by him.

"Well -," she started.

"Look," he cut her off. He was really not in the mood for any explanation. "Forget it – you're there – I'm going to take a shower and stretch out on the couch," he checked his watch. "Hell, it will be dawn in a few hours."

"I'll take the couch," she started to get up but slipped back down. "We could share," she eyed him suggestively.

"Em – Amanda – Go to sleep. I need a shower," he stepped over the mess to get to the bathroom. "I'll be out in five minutes."

When he emerged she had fallen asleep again (read: passed out). He grabbed a couple of blankets from the closet and tried to sleep on the couch. He didn't. He and Mattie were going to have to have a discussion. He had spoken to her twice that day, not once did she tell him that they did not go to Blacksburg or that she had allowed Em to use his apartment. If she had asked he would not have refused, but she didn't ask. Mattie and her lies of omission were becoming a problem - again straining the tentative trust Harm had placed in her.

As for his feelings about Aunt Em, that night flipped them 180 degrees. She was irresponsible and careless with Mattie, with him and with the family that they were trying to establish. Up until then, he thought she was just a little on the wild side, a little too quick with her opinions about things, and a little too ready to force herself into their lives, but on the whole he liked her. He was even attracted to her; the first woman he had been really attracted to since … well in a very long time. If he had met her under other circumstances he would 'want to get to know her better' and would probably have pursued her, but as Mattie's aunt there were too many complicating factors. His responsibility was to Mattie first. And now that he knew her better, he didn't want to know her at all.

1303 ZULU

Union Station Coffee Shop

Harm had dragged Mattie out of bed at the crack of dawn and taken her out for breakfast so they could talk. When they left, Em had not woken up yet. He controlled himself enough to wait until they had ordered their food.

"What is going on Mattie?"

"I couldn't let her drive," was her ready defense as if she had been practicing it for the past hour or the whole weekend.

That was one of the explanations Harm had mulled over in his head. He could understand Mattie's reluctance to let her aunt get behind the wheel of a car even after one drink, and he was impressed that she had not gotten in a car with her.

"Did you go to Blacksburg at all?" he demanded.

"She picked me up from school on Thursday – wanted me to skip school on Friday."

Harm's eyes flared.

"I didn't skip. But she told me that she had already checked out of the hotel so if we weren't going to Blacksburg she needed a place to stay."

"Why didn't you just ask me?" he was still confused and his frustration was clearly evident. "We have talked two or three times a day since I have been gone."

"I don't know."

"You don't know what?" he said.

"I DON'T KNOW."

"Keep your voice down," he ordered.

"Do I embarrass you, Harm?" she said snottily.

"You embarrass yourself," was his too sharp reply. "Did you think I would say 'no'?"

"I didn't think you would find out," she said quickly.

"You didn't think I would find out?" he was appalled.

"It was only supposed to be that night. Then Friday, after school – well – she had met some friends for a few drinks a couple of games of pool. When she got to the apartment to pick me up it was already 9:30. I couldn't let her drive."

"I understand that, that still doesn't answer my question. Why didn't you tell me?"

She got a very snotty teenage look on her face that read (for those that haven't seen it) 'don't ask me stupid questions' which actually translates to 'don't ask me question that will make me look bad'.

"You didn't want me to know that Em is drinking," he stated as an offered explanation.

"She is not an alcoholic," Mattie defended.

Harm did not want to challenge her on that but clearly he thought she had a drinking problem in addition to some other issues.

"The last thing you said to me was that you wouldn't make it back until today - tonight."

"So?" Harm was still waiting for the real explanation.

"She would have been gone this morning. You never would have known."

"Mattie that is not the point," he shook his head. "The point is that you lied to me."

"No, I didn't."

"You didn't tell me the truth and that is the same as lying."

"I disagree."

"Mattie," he shook his head. "I thought we had trust."

"We do."

"I don't see it that way. I see that you abused my faith in you again – and Jennifer's."

"Jennifer?" Mattie looked worried. "What does she have to do with this?"

"Jennifer looks out for you while I'm gone --."

"YOU ARE ALWAYS GONE."

"We talked about that Mattie. You know I have to travel for my work. You said you could handle it."

Mattie looked frustrated and surly. "So what about Jennifer. She wasn't even here. She's out of town."

"Exactly. If she were, what do you think she would have said about Em staying with us?"

Mattie shrugged. She knew the answer; Jennifer would have suggested that she clear it with Harm.

"You took advantage of the trust we placed in you."

"It's not like I had a party with a hundred of my friends and trashed the place." She blurted out. "It was Em."

"I know, and I know that she is the adult and should be more responsible – but you're wise enough to know that you did something wrong."

"I'm always wrong in your eyes," she stood up. "I can't do anything right."

He stood up with her and reached his hand out gently to catch her arm. "That is not true."

"Yes it's," she snapped back.

"Mattie please, I just want to talk about this."

"There is nothing to talk about," she said defiantly. "I'll clean your place up – I was going to anyway – and Em is leaving."

"Mattie, do you think I care about my apartment? Do you think I care that a woman who is pretty close to a stranger to me has been living in my house for the past couple of days without my knowledge? Do you think that is why I'm upset?"

Mattie shrugged.

"Mattie, I care about you and I care that you didn't feel you could tell me something – something that involved me. That you lied to me."

She shook her head and looked away.

"Mattie please – I'm not good at this. You have to help me … at least meet me half way."

She was silent.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say or do here," Harm pleaded. He was at a loss. He wasn't her father and he wasn't even sure if his legal guardianship would hold up in court. All he was a man who wanted to help her and if she would not let him help there would be little he could do. He didn't have a leg to stand on other than the fact that he genuinely cared about what was best for Mattie.

She looked up at him and smiled. "You want to wring my neck, don't you?"

"That is one impulse," he smiled. "But the bigger one is, I want to know why you lied to me – again."

"When have I lied to you before?"

"About your mother's accident."

Mattie stood up again and pushed the chair back so hard it fell over. "She was not driving. She never would have driven. She promised me that she would never – she wasn't – it was him."

"Mattie."

"No," she screamed. "No. You shut up about that! You don't know ANYTHING," she stormed out of the restaurant.

Harm caught up with her a block and a half later. "Mattie, WAIT!"

"Look, Harm – forget it – this isn't working for me – and it clearly isn't working for you. I'm going to Alaska with Em."

"Mattie, please – don't say that. You don't mean it."

"I do mean it. You don't want me."

"Yes I do," he tried to correct her but she would not hear it.

"You have never wanted me. I'm in the way."

"Mattie."

"You're never around and when you're around you have nothing to say to me. All I'm is someone to make arrangements for – someone to set rules for – that's it."

"That is not true."

"Yes it's – should have gotten a plant – a chia pet."

"Mattie stop it," he tried to reach out to take her arm and she pulled away.

"It was a stupid idea anyway – you and me – my father is getting out of rehab in a month. He won't let me stay with you and I won't go live with him – so I'm going to Alaska with Em."

"Mattie we can work this out?"

"No, Harm," her face was cold and hard. "We can't."

Harm saw the resolve in her eyes and had no idea if she really meant it or if she were just trying to get out dealing with the real stuff.

1401 ZULU - Wednesday, April 28, 2004

Dr. Gates Madden's Office

Central Intelligence Agency

"Welcome back, colonel." The doctor said as she made herself comfortable behind the desk. "Was wondering if I scared you off the last time."

"You do have a uniquely relentless …."

"Tenaciousness?"

"Like a Pitbull with a bone," Mac corrected. "You gave me a few things to think about."

"I'll take that as a victory." The doctor said playfully. "So, you're back."

"I wanted to discuss your theories about my relationship with Clayton Webb," Mac stated coldly.

"You writing a dissertation on the matter?" Madden asked.

"No."

"You're talking about the man you love like you were doing research on which car to buy."

"We broke up," Mac stated triumphantly.

"And you want me to tell you if you did the right thing?"

Mac laughed. "If you could, they aren't paying you enough."

"They aren't anyway," the doc confirmed. She was beginning to like Mac. "I have no theories or answers, just questions."

"More questions?"

"You tell me, why did you break up with him?"

Mac was prepared for this. "The short answer to that is that we weren't looking for the same thing in a relationship."

"Meaning."

"He wanted a lover, I wanted a husband."

"You think your lover can't be your husband?"

Mac laughed. "I expect my husband to be my lover – but he will be a lot more than that."

"Such as?"

"A partner in life, someone to make plans with, to raise a family with, to rely on – someone to rely on me," she took a deep breath. "Someone I can grow old with and like, admire and respect as much as love."

The doc nodded. "So Webb wasn't that man and you ended it."

Mac nodded.

"Was that fair to him?"

Mac was surprised. "To him?"

"Yeah, to him."

"It was fair to myself," she nodded slowly. "And yes, to him."

"How was it fair to the both of you?"

"We wanted different things, we both would have been miserable expecting something from the other that they weren't willing to give."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah, good." The doctor leaned back in her chair. "That was a rational, normal, adult thing to do about a relationship that is not satisfying. Did you discuss it or did you spring that on him too?" the doctor smiled.

Mac smiled back, she was beginning to like Gates Madden too. "We actually discussed it." Mac felt pretty proud of herself.

Clay and Mac actually did a lot of talking on the plane to New York. They did some good clear-headed dialogue that was not complicated by phone calls, assignments, drinking or sex. They were – for the first time since Sadik was killed – able to really communicate about where they were, what happened to them and where they were headed as a couple. It was obvious to both of them that they didn't want the same things, that they were not headed in the same direction and that it was neither one's fault. They were two people who shared a harrowing experience that brought them closer. Because of the gravity of the events, the seriousness, the life and death matters – they thought those feelings were enough to keep them going in the 'real world', but they weren't. And it was OK. Neither had regrets about the other.

Mac continued. "We discussed it a lot and we will remain friends."

"So what is the long answer?" the doctor was not going to let it go.

Mac got up and went to the window. "The long answer is more about the difference between Clay and me. The way we approach life, where we draw our lines and set our boundaries," she looked back at the doctor. "Agents live in the shadows, the grays of life and marines live in the black and white."

"Do you consider yourself only a marine?"

"No, but I'm more comfortable living with boundaries."

"For example?"

Mac thought for a moment. "I posed as his pregnant wife, but it was all for show. The line between the assignment and the personal is much clearer to me than it is to Webb."

"You think he would have blurred those lines?"

"I know it," she looked the doctor in the eye. "I have seen him blur those lines," she tried to remember the pain she felt at seeing Webb in Paris, but it was gone. "I have been witness it to it from all sides."

"Witness or victim?"

"I'm not a victim," she stated plainly.

The doc moved on. "Do you think his lack of boundaries comes with being an agent or is it comment on Webb's character?"

"Maybe a little of both." Mac looked away. "It makes him a good agent. … And why I would not be."

"Where are your lines, colonel?" the doctor asked. "What are your boundaries?"

Mac's eyes fixed on a point in the parking lot. It was actually a red corvette with a black ragtop. She thought for a moment it was Harm's. She hadn't seen or talked to him since Sicily. She thought about their conversation in the dark and her confession. His words still echoed in her head 'Sarah, I believe in you.' She felt safe enough to brave the same confession again. "I killed a man in cold blood," she said softly. "I didn't need to kill him, I wanted him dead."

The doctor sat silent.

"There is no question that he was a dangerous man and had done despicable things in the past and would have continued to seek his vengeance on the innocent people of the world. But I murdered him," she looked back at the doctor. "I have to live with that for the rest of my life."

The doctor still sat silent waiting for her question to be answered.

"That is a line that I never thought I would cross."

"And?" she asked gently.

"And I never would have, if I had --." Mac words trailed off. What she was thinking was that she never would have if she hadn't gone on that assignment with Clay, if she had listened to Harm when he asked her not to go. How different this whole last year would have been if when Harm said 'I don't want you to go,' she asked him why and stayed to hear the answer.

Mac looked back to the doctor. "I'm sleeping better at night."


	6. 06

Title: **Switching Tracks**

Chapter Six

By: LizD

Spoilers: Alternate Ending to Season Nine – Spoilers Though The Death of Sadik

Notes: Written before the last five shows of Season Nine Aired

Written: April/May 2004

**Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.**

Switching Tracks – Part Six

Where is the Emergency Cord on This Thing?

2135 ZULU - Thursday, April 29, 2004

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, VA

Jennifer Coates knocked on Mac's door and waited to be acknowledged.

Mac had her nose buried in case files, as it had been all day, as it had been fifteen hours a day since she got back from the Seahawk. With the exception of her appointment with Dr. Madden, nature calling and the necessary break for sleep, she had remained in her office behind closed doors all week. She had barely spoken to anyone since the admiral dropped the Brandon appeal in her lap on Monday morning - first thing – before her first cup of coffee. It was a very high profile case and she was to give regular reports to the admiral of her progress. Opening arguments were May 3rd. She had been arriving early and leaving late, eating lunch in her office and taking no phone calls. She hadn't spoken to anyone including Harm and no one approached her. She had assumed that it was so ordered by the admiral and welcomed the isolation to get her work done.

As for Harm, she knew that something like a directive from the admiral would not have kept him away if he were all that interested in talking to her. Since he hadn't stopped by or he called, left a note or sent an e-mail, she assumed that he was avoiding her – more than likely because of Webb, well her relationship with Webb. Actually it was an EX-relationship with Webb, but Harm had no way of knowing that. She wasn't about to rush to tell him. She didn't want him to get the wrong idea as Webb originally did. Harm often got wrong ideas like that and she actually enjoyed the secret.

She was sleeping better at night. Every other footstep in the hall did not have the possibility of being Webb. She hadn't realized it before but Webb actually didn't relax her they way she thought he had. She had felt defensive and aggressive with him. Like he was trying to get her to do something that she didn't want to do. As for missing the physical intimacy, Mac found that she relished her solitude more. She could think her own thoughts and do what she wanted when she wanted. Mac enjoyed being alone.

Jennifer knocked again.

"Enter." Mac looked up and smiled, she was more than grateful for the interruption. "Yes, Petty Officer."

"Colonel, the admiral would like to see you."

"Thank you." Mac made a mark in her files and closed them up for confidentiality.

"Ma'am, have you spoken to the commander?" Jennifer asked quickly before Mac was able to get out of her chair.

"Harm?" Mac thought that Jennifer would have had more opportunity to speak with Harm than she had. "No, I have been buried in this case for what seems like months," she laughed easily. "Why?"

"You didn't hear it from me, ma'am," she looked a little worried. "But I think he could use a friend right now."

"A friend?" Mac became concerned. It had not occurred to her that maybe something was wrong with him. Guess she was still too focused on her own continually emerging revelations that Gate Madden was helping with.

"You knew that he took some time off?" Jennifer continued.

"Time off? When?"

Jennifer looked back over her shoulder quickly to be sure no one was listening. "He and Mattie were both gone by time I got home on Sunday."

"Sunday?"

"And the admiral didn't tell me when he would be back."

"They didn't tell you where they were going, or why?" Mac asked.

Jennifer shrugged. "Mattie told me some stuff before, but it was in confidence, and -."

"And what?" Mac pulled.

"I'm not sure I believe her."

"What do you mean?"

"I have caught Mattie in some … lies."

"What kind of lies?"

"Not big ones, nothing really important, just … you know … teenage stuff," she smiled nervously. "Saying that her homework was done, when it wasn't. Saying that she got an A on a test when she actually got a C … you know, teenage stuff … to stay out of trouble. Anyway, I haven't seen her since last week," she looked back over her shoulder. "Then there is this whole thing with Aunt Em."

"Right, Mattie's aunt from Alaska." Mac looked toward the admiral's office knowing that she should have been there already. "Have you met her?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jennifer smiled. "She is great. I like her a lot, but Mattie runs hot and cold about her … I don't know. I shouldn't say anything. It's not my business."

"I'll give Harm a call," Mac reassured her. "Thanks for the heads up."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mac walked passed her.

"Ma'am, if there is anything I can do…?"

"You'll be the first, Jennifer."

"Thank you."

2356 ZULU - Thursday, April 29, 2004

Grace Residence, Blacksburg, PA

Harm and Mattie were moving boxes from the garage to a moving van. They looked like they had been at it for hours. Both were covered in dirt, dust and sweat. Mattie paused after she placed the last one on the bed of the truck.

"Don't they pay people to do this?" she laughed.

"I'm paying you," he smiled back at her. "All the pizza you can eat," he laughed. "It would have been cheaper to hire a couple of guys."

Mattie sat down on the grass and watched as Harm arranged the last load of boxes in the truck, securing them into the optimum position.

"Harm?"

"Yeah," he called out to her. "Hey, toss me a couple of those bungies, would you?"

"Harm, are you really alright with this?" She handed him the cords.

He looked back over his shoulder. "Am I alright with this? You are asking me that now?"

"You said it would never be too late to change my mind."

He wiped his face and sat down on the edge of the trunk. "Yeah, well, I wish you would have changed your mind before we spent four days slaving away," he smiled weakly.

"I haven't changed my mind; I just want to know that you are Ok."

He sighed and looked down. His mind went back to five days prior, when the decision was made.

~ ~ F ~ L ~ A ~ S ~ H ~ B ~ A ~ C ~ K ~ ~

1452 ZULU – Sunday, April 25, 2004

Rabb Residence

Harm had gotten Mattie calmed down after her declaration that she wanted to move to Alaska with Aunt Em; that she no longer thought that she and Harm would 'work it out'. He calmed her down enough to allow them to go back and have breakfast and start the conversation again slowly. Clearly Mattie was reacting to something and Harm really wanted to understand what. There were too many inconsistencies but there were also too many emotions running close to the surface. Harm had to put his feelings away and focus on the child – the young adult he had taken the responsibility for. It was very difficult for him to do. If Mattie were a case he was working on, it would have been less of a problem. If she had been a marine or a sailor it would have been no problem at all, but she wasn't. If Mattie were a woman – an adult woman – say someone like Mac – he would still not know what to do or say, but an adult would be more rational. But Mattie was a girl, a kid, full of raw emotion and that could erupt over nothing or over something. It was Harm's job as the adult – as the parent – to sift through it all and help her. Poor Harm, he never dealt with women well. Kids? … forget about it.

Their conversation never got beyond the lies Mattie told to him. She did not explain them, rather did not explain them well. Probably no fault of Mattie's, she undoubtedly didn't know the real reasons she lied. But she apologized for them anyway and promised not to do it again. To show her commitment to this 'new rule' she confessed several other "misdirections" she had been feeding him like how well she was doing in school, her relationship with Conrad, and that she had actually only gone to one AlaTeen meeting.

'It was for saps,' she had claimed.

Harm took this all well, and let his lawyer's mind manage the situation and put his emotions on hold. One thing was becoming painfully obvious to him, it was going to be a long row to hoe with Mattie and he no longer could take her at her word. That broke his heart and put a huge scare into him about his ability to be a good parent for her.

By the time they got back to the apartment Em was up and dressed, the bed had been stripped and remade and the apartment was clean. She was waiting for her turn at the discussion.

"We need to talk," she stated as they walked in the door. "All three of us."

Mattie shook her head. "I'm all talked out."

"Mattie, I really think -." Harm started but Em interrupted.

"Mattie, you can take part of this discussion or we can tell you when happens when it's over." Em was firm with her, firmer than Harm had ever been.

"Fine," Mattie threw her hands in the air. "You decide my life and just tell me when to show up," she slammed down the hall.

"Mattie," Harm called after her.

"Let her go, commander," Em said. "If she can't be mature enough to talk rationally, then she will get what she gets."

"Em," he glared back at her. "That is not the kind of relationship that Mattie and I are building."

"I understand that, and look where your trust has gotten you," she snapped back at him.

"Look, lady," his ire was back up. "You are the one she was trying to protect."

"Really?" she smiled and leaned back against the island. "Just what lie did little Miss Matilda tell you?"

"She told me that you wanted her to skip school on Friday and that you were too drunk to drive out to Blacksburg," he threw at her. "Do you have a drinking problem, Em?"

She smirked at him. "Well I have got to had it to her, that girl sure knows your buttons, doesn't she?"

"You didn't answer the question."

"Please, commander. Just what kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"I have no idea what kind you are – you are a stranger to me."

"I've got news for you Rabb, so is Mattie."

Harm shook his head. She was right; the things he was finding out about Mattie were not at all who he thought she was.

"Do you want to hear the truth, or are you not interested," she offered.

Harm sat down and nodded for her to continue. "You left on Wednesday. Mattie called and had me pick her up from school. Said she was going to skip a meeting."

"That was her Alateen meeting," he explained.

"Right, well she skipped it. We went to dinner and she told me that Jennifer was going out of town and that you had asked if I would stay with her while you both were away."

"You didn't think that I would have called you myself?" he tried to find the hole in her logic.

"I called your cell several times, I couldn't get through. Mattie said that that is often the case when you are 'at sea,'" she said. "And after the last dinner we had, I thought maybe you --."

"I what?" he demanded.

"Nothing," she shook her head. "I thought maybe you were worried that things were moving too quickly between us."

Harm looked away. They had had dinner several times and 'it' was moving in 'that' direction, but Harm was not ready to make a move for a variety of reasons. The most important being the impact it would have on Mattie should it not work out. For Em however, it was moving too slowly. It seemed like she was already getting tired of waiting.

"What about Blacksburg?" he asked avoiding the subject of a relationship with Em.

"Friday I was dealing with lawyers and bankers all day trying to resecure Grace Aviation. By time I got back to the apartment it was after 7:00 and Mattie didn't want to go and to be honest I didn't feel like driving back out there."

"And last night?"

"I took her shopping for clothes during the day and last night we stayed home, played games."

"And drank," he corrected.

"Yes, commander. I drank a couple of your beers," she gave him look that challenged.

"A couple?" his brow went up in the way it does.

"Count them yourself. I was not drunk," she walked toward the fridge to prove her point.

"You looked pretty out of it when I got home last night."

"I had taken some allergy medicine," she explained. "It knocked me out. I don't even remember you coming in. Did we speak?"

"Yes."

"Terrific," she shook her head. "I hope I didn't say anything too … rude."

Harm shook his head in disbelief. "If you weren't drunk, then why would Mattie …?" Harm looked toward the closed door.

"Why would she say that I was?" She got a broad smile on her face, "Commander, Mattie is jealous."

"Jealous? Of what?"

"Not what, Harm," she said carefully. "Who. And that who is you."

"Me?" He was at a loss. "Why would … ?"

"Think about," she started. "She is a young woman, coming into her own. She has been ignored or alone most of her life – my sister, god rest her soul, was not the most maternal person on the planet and her father is a waste of human flesh. That kid raised herself – and did a pretty good job so far."

Harm still looked confused.

"Then one day into her life walks a very handsome, very nice, very SINGLE attentive man who wants to take care of her. He moves heaven and earth to do it, changes his whole life and she didn't even have to ask. How could she help herself?"

"Help herself?"

"She fell in love with you," she stated as if it were obvious. "Any woman would – you are her hero, her knight in shining armor, her fairy tale prince who came along and swept her off her feet."

Harm shook his head. This was wrong.

She exhaled, not believing how dense he was being. "She has a crush on you, commander," she smiled weakly. "I can understand it."

"I don't think --."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Harm," she sat down near him. "You are a nice guy that did a nice thing."

Harm was still not buying this concept.

"Have you never had a woman fall in love with you because you saved them from a horrible fate?"

"No, not usually," he flashed his smile.

"Well, that smile and those baby blues will get you fifty percent of the population and your heroic nice guy tendencies should get you the rest."

"I haven't had much luck with women," he stated.

"Apparently not," she nodded. "Though I have no idea why."

He tried a different tactic. "Let's say – for a moment – that I buy this … scenario," he looked like he wasn't buying it at half the price. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. But Mattie's adolescent crush on you is the least of your problems."

"Oh?"

"Look, Harm, she is lying to you about stupid stuff. What happens when she starts lying about big stuff?" She got very serious. "You don't question her – about anything."

"That is not true," he defended.

"You are an innocent-until-proven-guilty type – Mattie will use that against you at every turn."

"What makes you such an expert on Mattie?"

"I was Mattie, Harm," she stated plainly. "The only person I had in my life that gave a damn whether I lived or died growing up was my sister," she looked up at him. "And the two of us made every mistake in the book – twice – but we had each other."

"So why did you leave her here?"

She exhaled and sat back. "I thought – wrongly – that Jake and Martha Johnson would be best for her. They are good, honest, hard working, God fearing, church going people who don't smoke, drink, swear or spit on sidewalks. They are salt of the earth, wholesome people … Donna Reed, Ozzie and Harriet, the Brady Bunch all rolled into one."

Harm looked at her. She sounded like she had just called them devil worshippers.

"The Johnson's and the Grace's were not … how do they say it?"

"Cut from the same cloth?" He offered.

"Exactly. Mattie is more Grace than Johnson and ran rampant over them and their children. When she left, I have to think they were relieved. It's not that they don't love Mattie and want her to be raised well – it was just that she was too much to handle."

Harm nodded, he was beginning to see the problems.

"Maybe even too much to handle for a single Navy commander who spends a lot of his time away from home."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Maybe," he looked up at her. "But I'm not willing to give up."

She smiled at him. "I didn't expect you to."

"It may not matter anyway - her father wants her back," he added.

"Not any more," she said coolly.

Harm cocked his head asking her to explain herself.

"Johnson checked himself out of the halfway house – he's gone."

Disappointment covered his face. "He fell off the wagon?"

"He didn't fall, Harm. He jumped," she looked disgusted. "Or should I say dove back into the bottle. Good riddance."

~ ~ E ~ N ~ D ~ ~ ~ F ~ L ~ A ~ S ~ H ~ B ~ A ~ C ~ K ~ ~

"Hey." Mattie called. "Earth to Harm – your phone is ringing."

Harm pulled his phone out. "Rabb … Hey, colonel, how's the appeal coming?" he laughed. "I'm surprised you even noticed I was gone. … Fine, fine, just needed to take some time off. …" He looked at Mattie. "She is right here, would you like to speak with her?"

Harm handed the phone to Mattie.

"Hi Mac. … No, yeah … I'm good, how are you? … I'm trying, but you know Harm, trouble seems to follow him where ever he goes."

Mattie moved off and Harm could no longer hear what she was saying. He looked back at the house and his face washed with sadness. Too many of the things he thought he would happen were slipping away from him: his brother, his career, Mac and now Mattie – his latest failed attempt at connecting to another living human being.

That Sunday, after Harm and Em had a heart to heart, Harm and Mattie did the same. With tears in her eyes and quaking in her voice, she told Harm that she thought it would be best for everyone if she moved to Alaska with Em.

"She needs me, Harm." Mattie cried. "And I need her."

Harm did not disagree nor did he tell her how much he needed her. She was right and her needs surpassed his. They agreed to stay in touch and Harm promised to come to Alaska before the end of summer. He also promised her that if she ever changed her mind or needed him in anyway, he would be there for her – in a heartbeat, no questions asked. Mattie made the same promise.

"Hey Harm," she was standing next to him holding the phone out. "Mac says that she will call you later."

He smiled and took the phone. "Did you tell her?"

"Yeah." Mattie looked away. "Probably why she wants to call you later."

Harm nodded. Mac was a good friend – it was all she would ever be, but she was a good friend.

0045 ZULU - Sunday, May 2, 2004

Rabb Residence

Harm let himself into his apartment and didn't bother to turn on the lights. Mattie and Em would be somewhere over Ohio by then. He kept his goodbye to Mattie light and breezy, it was the way she wanted it. But as soon as she was out of sight, Harm lost all strength in his legs and needed to sit. He sat in his car in the airport for nearly an hour before he could trust himself to drive. He had experienced loss in his life – a lot of loss: his father, his brother, Diane, the series of women who walked away and of course Mac. But that time he truly believed he failed. He didn't give her enough. That was his conclusion and what did that say about him?

He barely heard the knock at the door. He really didn't want to speak to anyone. The knock came again louder.

"Sir? It's Jennifer," she called through the door.

He forced himself off the couch and over to the door.

"Jennifer," he said as he opened the door trying to look unaffected.

"Is there anything I can do for you, sir?" she asked in that way of hers that said more than the words.

"You can not call me 'sir' when you are standing in my door way," he smiled at her.

"Yes, sir," she would never think of him as anything else.

"Come in," he walked away from the door.

She entered and closed the door behind her. He offered her a beer, which she turned down.

"I know I have said this before, Jennifer," he took a long hit of the beer he opened for himself. "I owe you more than I can ever repay for all you did for Mattie and me."

"No you don't, sir."

"Well, I think I do."

"Thank you, sir."

"I want you to know, that for as long as you want that apartment, half the rent will be paid."

"That is not necessary sir," she smiled. "I have found a roommate."

"Really. That is great – I mean – is it great?"

"Yes. She will move in at the end of the month so I have thirty days to find out what all this 'living alone' talk is all about."

He nodded and smiled. He had lived alone so long, he couldn't remember ever not living alone.

"Sir, what do you want me to do with all that stuff?"

"What stuff?" He was confused and a little irritated that he would have to actually think.

"We don't have to talk about it now, sir."

"No, it's fine. What stuff?"

"The stuff you bought for Mattie. The furniture, the TV, the DVD … you know all that stuff that she couldn't take with her."

He nodded. There was a lot of Mattie left behind. "Do you want it?" he asked tentatively.

"I will use it, if that is what you mean, sir."

"It's yours. A gift - whatever."

"Sir, I couldn't possibly ..."

"Jennifer, if you don't stop calling me sir – I'm going to kick you butt into next week."

She nodded.

"You are a good friend, Jennifer; a godsend to Mattie and me. I couldn't have even attempted this … this … this project if it weren't for you. Please – a TV and a DVD are nothing – a drop in the bucket for what I owe you."

"I'm happy you think so – that I was able to help you sir – Harm," she corrected. "I still feel indebted to you."

"How about this, Jenn?" he smiled. "Let's say we get rid of the tally board, and call each other friends, OK?"

She nodded tentatively. "Ok."

"Ok," he agreed.

She moved to the door, she didn't want to over stay her welcome. "Sir – Harm?"

He nodded.

"What you did for Mattie was pretty amazing."

He shrugged. Clearly he didn't think so.

"You made a difference," she said quickly knowing that he was going to brush it off. "You helped her believe in people again." Jennifer was thinking of herself and wishing that someone like Harm had come into her life when she was fifteen. Mattie was headed for real trouble; luckily he did enter her life before any permanent damage could be done. He found Jennifer before it was too late too. "She is going to be OK."

He nodded to show that he heard her. What Harm wasn't saying was that he didn't help Mattie to be the 'hero' – hell he hadn't helped Jennifer to be the hero, or Mac for that matter. He did what he thought was right and gave very little thought to how he would appear or what it would net him. But that night – he felt very alone and unrewarded. None of his actions – his heroic stunts – were done with any kind of payback, but he gave so much, when was it his turn to receive? He shook those thoughts away.

"Thank you, Jenn," he said after a moment.

"Ok then … well good night."

"Good night, Jennifer," he followed her to the door. "Thanks again."

"Yes, sir," she smiled at him. "Sorry, force of habit." As Jennifer walked down the hall she tired to figure out how she was going to help Harm not see the hole in the donut.

2217 ZULU – Thursday, May 6, 2004

JAG HQ, Falls Church, Virginia

Harm was buried in work – tedious, mindless, boring work – but there was plenty of it. That admiral made special effort to over load him and with the colonel out of the office for the week it was easy to do.

A knock came to his doorframe.

"Come," he said without looking up.

"Hey, you have time for dinner?" Mac said brightly.

He looked up into her smiling face. "Hey, yourself," he leaned back in his chair. "The real question is, do you?"

"Seventy three minutes." Mac was representing the US Government in the Brandon appeal. Brandon had hired a hotshot civilian attorney who was pulling out all the stops. Her second chair on the case was a green lieutenant who was more work than help.

"Well, I guess I need to seize the opportunity," he stood up. "How's it going anyway?"

"Winning some, losing some."

He knew she was winning more than losing or else she wouldn't be in such a good mood.

Jennifer appeared in the doorway. "Excuse me, commander," she said to Harm, then quickly turning her attention to Mac. "Colonel, it's nice to see you."

"And to be seen petty officer."

Jennifer looked back at Harm. "Commander, the admiral would like to see you."

"Thank you," Harm nodded. Jennifer left. "Oh well," he gave Mac an 'I'm sorry' look. "Guess we will have to continue our game of tag."

Mac had called Harm several times since Mattie had left and Harm had returned each and every call (he didn't make any unsolicited calls), but they had not yet had a chance to speak. It was a serious game of phone tag. Harm was OK with that. He was dealing with Mattie being gone and he was slowly accepting that Mattie's leaving was not due to some major flaw in his character on his own. He knew that Mac meant well, but he really didn't want to be coddled or 'cheered' up through this time. The admiral had the right plan: work and lots of it.

"You don't want me to wait?" she was disappointed.

"And cut into your seventy-two minutes of eating time – no, you go on," he passed her to get to the hallway. "Maybe we can do a run or a quick lunch sometime over the weekend – you are taking breaks for exercise, food and sleep, aren't you?"

"Barely – but a run sounds good," she smiled. "Tomorrow?"

"I'll call you," he started to walk down the hall.

"Harm?" she called after him knowing that if he didn't promise it wouldn't happen.

He turned and smiled at her. "Tomorrow – 0600 – I'll pick you up and we'll go to that park you like."

She smiled and nodded.

1218 ZULU – Friday, May 7, 2004

Coffee Shop near the MacKenzie Residence

Harm and Mac actually made their run. They talked mostly about the case as they ran and steered clear of all personal topics. Interestingly enough he had been doing a little background on the case she was working on and was able to give her a couple of things to think about. She was way too close to the case and really needed to step back and take a little perspective.

Harm came back to the table with two cups of coffee and the scone Mac 'had to have.'

"Thank you," she mumbled with a mouthful of scone.

"You need to eat something with protein," he said with his new – and now useless – paternal tone.

She nodded and put down the scone. "How are you doing, Harm?"

"I'm … you know … good," he smiled. "I heard from Mattie last night. She is loving the daylight in Alaska. Says that the sun doesn't go down until 2200."

"She won't feel that way in a few months when it doesn't come up at all."

"I reminded her about that."

She gave him a very meaningful look. "It was a nice thing you did, Harm."

"For all the good it did."

"I think it did a lot. She was alone and scared and you helped."

"Yeah, you are probably right," he didn't believe it but needed to continue to give his well wishing friends a little lip service.

"It was good for you too," she smiled at him. "Though you may not think so right now."

He smirked at her. "Better to have loved and lost, eh colonel?" He shook his head. How many times could he love and lose without it jading him.

"Come on, Harm," she cajoled. "This was a big step, really out of character for you," she smiled.

"You think so?"

"Well, not out of character maybe, but not expected."

"I suppose not," he smiled and looked away. "Times change – people change."

"Yes they do," she was feeling herself being drawn to him in a familiar way. He smile was warm and inviting.

"So, how are you?" He asked clearly trying to change the subject. "What else is news?"

She went back to her scone, though her mind immediately went to her break up with Webb, which Harm had no knowledge of.

He grinned. "Crashing anymore F-14's in your dreams?"

"No," she shook her head. "In fact I haven't been dreaming too much at all."

"You look rested," he actually thought she looked better than she had in nearly a year.

"It's this case," she explained. "I'm so tired when I get home I fall into bed and sleep until the alarm goes off."

"You have an alarm clock?" he teased. "That is news."

"This case is really taking it out of me."

"Do you need some help with it?" he offered. "I know that your second is …"

"Useless. I'm not sure he went to law school."

"I have some time on my hands if you want bounce some ideas and arguments off me," his offer was genuine and not arrogant.

"Would you?" She hadn't wanted to ask because she thought he was dealing with too much.

"Of course. I'll always have time for you, Mac." Harm's phone rang. "Hang on." He pulled it out and saw the caller ID. "The admiral," he told her. "Rabb. … Yes, sir … right away, sir … Where? … Yes, sir."

"What is going on?" Mac asked but before Harm could answer Mac's phone rang. She nodded to show that it was the admiral. "Yes, sir. … Yes, sir … immediately," she hung up. "I wonder what that is all about," she said.

"Not sure – but we have five minutes to get there.

"You can change at my place," she said getting up from the table sorry that their conversation was interrupted.

1530 ZULU – Tuesday, May 11, 2004

JAG Headquarters

Fall Church, VA

Harm and Mac had been getting along so well in the past week it was refreshing to the entire office as well as to them. Mac had stopped the appeal and was in an uncharacteristically good mood. Harm was getting back into the life of a single man; more like his old self. There were a couple of group lunches, Chinese on Saturday and several opportunities for Harm and Mac to work and relax with each other alone – all very nice, all very casual, nothing earth shattering, nothing to write home about – but good, normal, friendly. Things were finally getting back on track.

The admiral was leaving town again, this time for a week and had put Mac in charge. Harm had a case to investigate in Norfolk that was turning into a big deal, Sturgis and Bud were going up against each other on a murder case starting the next day, and Mac was given an administrative project. For all intents and purposes, the admiral would not be missed for seven days. The only thing that interested them was that he would not tell them where he was going, but let them know it was not personal.

Harm, Mac, Sturgis and Bud left the admiral's office after a briefing. They were all laughing and teasing Mac about her 'appointment.'

"Sarah," Clayton Webb's voice called to them through the office. "Rabb." He stepped up to them.

"Clay," Mac looked uncomfortable.

"Webb." Harm looked between Webb and Mac and noticed that there was some distance between them. "When did you get back?" He asked feeling the need to be friendly.

"Back? I haven't been away." Webb looked over at Sarah. Webb had been in town the past two weeks or more but there was no longer a reason for him to 'show up' at JAG, her apartment or to call on a whim. Harm obviously didn't know that, all he knew was that she had made no reference to Webb in anyway. "Sarah, are we still on for dinner?"

"Sure – well, wait. Call me," she looked toward her office. "I have a client waiting. If you both will excuse me," she left.

Clay looked back at Harm. "How's she doing?" He asked like a friend asking another friend how a mutual friend was doing.

"Great." Harm was unsure why he was being asked that question. "Keeping that appeal from happening was a pretty big coup."

"Appeal?" Clearly Webb had no idea what had been going on with Mac for a couple of weeks. "Guess I have been out of the MacKenzie loop for a while."

"Looks that way," Harm confirmed.

"Keep an eye on her, would you Rabb?" He boldly asked.

"Mac can take care of herself." Harm stated a little too harshly.

"Clayton Webb." The admiral's voice interrupted them. "Thank you for coming?"

"Admiral, what can I do for you?"

The two men disappeared behind the admiral's door. Harm was left confused but with a building anger. Clearly Mac and Webb broke up and it had been some time ago, at least two weeks. In the past week, Harm and Mac had spent time together – off time together - running, working on cases, dinner – the subject had not come up. Harm never mentioned Webb because he assumed that Webb was out of town and didn't want to remind Mac that she was a spy-widow. But as it turned out, she was free all those nights, all mornings because she was not seeing Webb anymore. Why hadn't she told Harm? That was the question that nagged at him. The answer hit him like a slap in the face – a rude, cold, hurtful slap in the face.

"Fine," was the only audible remark he made but his eyes were dark and his fists were clenched. He turned to Coates, "Petty Officer, I'm going to Norfolk. I should be back on Thursday."

"I'll inform the admiral," she stated. "And the colonel."

At Coates reminder that Mac was now in charge, Harm ire shot through the roof. "FINE," he stormed out of the office.


	7. 07

Title: **Switching Tracks**

Chapter Seven

By: LizD

Spoilers: Alternate Ending to Season Nine – Spoilers Though The Death of Sadik

Notes: Written before the last five shows of Season Nine Aired

Written: April/May 2004

**Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.**

Switching Tracks – Part Seven - FINAL

Train in Vain

1530 ZULU – Friday, May 14, 2004

JAG Headquarters

Fall Church, VA

Mac was on her way out to her final appointment with Dr. Madden, when she noticed Harm in his office. She hadn't spoken with Harm since he left for Norfolk and didn't know that he was back. She called his cell several times, but he had not returned any of them. It was odd, but Mac didn't think much more about it. She had a few minutes so she went to check in with him.

"Hey, stranger," she called to him from the doorway.

"Colonel," was his cool response.

She felt the chill in the room. "When did you get back?"

"My report was on your desk this morning," he didn't look up.

"How did it go?" she stepped into the office. Somehow she knew that this 'check in' was not going to go well, and didn't want voices to be raised.

"You saw from the report, I am recommending that we go to an article 32," he only barely made eye contact with her.

"What is going on, Harm?" she had closed the door and was no longer interested in his evasive answers or the case.

"You tell me, colonel," he snapped back.

She shook her head; she had no idea what was wrong. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I feel fine. Great in fact," he fixed her with a stare. "Like I got a 130 pound monkey off my back."

"Meaning?"

"I am sure you can appreciate the feeling having just voided yourself – AGAIN – of –."

"Don't -," she cut him off quickly before he could stick his whole foot in his mouth. She realized that he was 'upset' that she hadn't updated him about her change in status with Webb, but she didn't think it would be that big a deal. The problem facing her now was that she had no intention of discussing it with him – not then, not ever, but he clearly had some shots to fire.

"We are not going to talk about this now," she stated firmly. The 'now' was to soften the blow; 'later' would be ignored … at a later time. "I have an appointment."

"Whenever you can pencil me in, colonel," he snapped back. "It's not like we are friends or anything."

"Commander," she warned. "I have to go."

"Fine, walk away," he sneered. "That is what you are best at."

Harm couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. He thought he was over his … annoyance – his raging annoyance - but the sight of her brought it all back up instantly. He had spent the better part of his time in Norfolk convincing himself that it was no big deal. That Mac's personal life – rather her LOVE life – was clearly none of his business. She had made that clear – perfectly clear - on a number of occasions. This thing with Webb – this last cold slap in the face – from the 'hook up' to the 'break up' – shouldn't be any different. Rather she should be applauded for finally being consistent. He didn't feel like applauding; he didn't feel like rationalizing his irrational rage. Truth be told he couldn't even be bothered to understand what he was really angry about. Mac was the subject – so right or wrong – she was the target.

"Gotten pretty familiar with you backside over the years, colonel." he called after her almost too loudly.

"What did you say to me?" she turned to face him.

"Walk away, colonel," he held his ground. "That is your M.O. Is there anyone you haven't walked away from?"

"How dare you?"

"How dare I?" he laughed. "I am the current record holder. You have walked away from me more times than --"

"That's enough," Mac stated. She decided the direct approach was the best. "Do you really want to know why I didn't tell you about Clay?" she challenged.

"I already know," was his triumphant retort.

"Of all the arrogant, self-absorbed, egotistical -," her rage was building. "I can only imagine what it is you think you know."

"You have made it perfectly clear where I stand in your life," he lobbed back at her.

"Have I?"

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I am the idiot that keeps trying to believe that we are friends," he looked back up at her. "I won't make that mistake again."

"Well, you have it all figured out, don't you commander?"

"It ain't rocket science, colonel."

"Some day you'll figure out that the world does not revolve around you, Harm."

"Yours certainly doesn't."

She fixed him with a glare. "You'll never change, Harm, and that – more than anything – was the death of … anything that could have happened..."

"Between us?" he asked with sarcasm oozing from every poor. "There is no US, Colonel. You made sure of that."

With that she slammed out of his office and out of JAG.

Harm was left with his irritation – his raging irritation – and a nagging feeling like he was wrong. That feeling quickly got stowed.

1606 ZULU – Friday, May 14, 2004

Dr. Gates Madden's Office

Central Intelligence Agency

Mac was staring out the window waiting for the doctor to show up. She was clearly agitated.

"Hello, Mac," the doctor said as she entered. "I am sorry to keep you waiting."

"That's fine," Mac said quickly. "I just came today to thank you for your help."

"Well this is our last session, are there things you need to go over?"

"Nope, I am good to go," she flashed a nervous smile.

The doctor sat down and turned away from Mac and waited.

"So, anyway, thank you for your time," she said moving toward the door. "I won't take up any more."

"Colonel, sit down," she commanded.

Mac looked back at her with a shocked expression on her face. "I'm sorry."

"You like orders – I am giving you one," she looked pretty pleased with herself. "Sit down."

Mac did as she was told.

"What is going on?" the doctor asked.

Mac shook her head and looked away. "Nothing."

"Does this 'nothing' have a name? Clayton Webb, perhaps?"

"No, Webb and I are fine," Mac brushed the question aside.

The doctor waited.

Mac exhaled and tried to say as little as possible without actually lying. "I just had a bit of a run in with a co-worker – that's all."

Not enough for the doctor.

"It just happened, right before I left the office and I am still …" her explanation ran out.

"Processing it?"

"Fine – processing it."

"Who was the co-worker?"

Mac looked away.

"Let me guess, Harmon Rabb."

Mac shook her head in disgust, not to imply that the doctor was wrong – rather to imply that she was right. "It is nothing, this is what we do. We fight."

"You fight?"

Mac nodded. "Banter – whatever. We will work through it – we always do."

"So was this a fight or a banter session?"

Mac did not answer. What she just had with Harm very well could have been their last fight.

"Was it work related? … Something to do with a case? … Or work procedures? … He dissed you in court?" The doctor was trying to get anything she could out of Mac.

"No, nothing … it was nothing," she looked away. "It's really no big deal, we'll work it out in a day or two." Or a month or two … or three or six, Mac thought. "We always do."

The doctor waited for her to continue. When it was clear that she wasn't' going to, she proceeded. "Ok, Mac. I asked you this before and you never answered. We have one session left, let's use it wisely."

Mac did not answer.

"Tell me," the doctor prodded.

"Tell you what?" she was annoyed that she had to deal with this. Damn him. These sessions were not about Harm, they were about Mac, and now she was going to have to waste the last one dealing with him. If only he had come back after her appointment or if she hadn't stopped by, she would have been safe.

"Mac, who is Harmon Rabb to you?"

"No one," Mac said coolly. "And that is his decision."

"That is not what I asked. I asked who he was to you."

Mac shifted her position and found something to say to appease the doctor. "Harm is … He is …. He is an arrogant, self-absorbed, adolescent male who loves to play hero and be the center of attention. He is never more alive than when he puts his life or his career on the line to save … anyone … everyone … whether it be in court or using an F-14."

"Or an AK-47," the doctor offered. "Like he did with you in Paraguay."

Mac shook her head.

"So Harmon Rabb is your hero," the doctor offered again.

"No," Mac was adamant.

"Don't you feel indebted to him for saving your life?"

"I have saved his life on a number of occasions," she defended.

"So his was just payback for what he owed you."

Mac shook her head as if to say 'no.'

"OK. So why did he resign his job, and travel three thousand miles, without back up from the US Government or the CIA to find you and bring you home, Mac?"

"You'll have to ask him," she snapped.

The doctor waited.

"I told you," Mac continued. "He likes to play hero."

"Is that all there is to it?"

"Yes," Mac was taking a position.

"He is not … maybe … a little bit … in love with you?" she asked coyly.

Mac got up and moved back to her position by the window.

"Oh, so he is in love with you," she stated as the obvious option. "But you aren't in love with him."

"I have no idea what he feels," Mac explained without actually answering. "It doesn't matter. We would never work."

"Have you tried? I thought you told me that you weren't lovers."

"We weren't."

"So you know it won't work – how?

"We can't agree about the day of the week or the color of the sky," Mac continued. "His goal in life is to show me up. To make me look bad. To be on top."

"Top of what?" the doctor was amused.

Mac was not. "I can't tell you how many times he has baited me both in and out of the courtroom to make me look like a fool."

"Baited you how?"

Mac clearly did not want to answer but she had opened that line of questioning. She thought for a moment. "Ok, here is a good example. About two years ago, at my engagement party he told me he loved me – of course not in so many words – Harm never actually says anything that can be used against him in a court of law."

"Is that where you want to take him, to court?"

Mac didn't like hearing that. "He covers his butt – says enough to imply a lot but lets other people interpret what they want so he doesn't have to take responsibility."

"Other people?"

"Me," she owned. "Regardless, he made this statement – this left handed comment and then he kissed me."

"To bait you? To make you look like a fool?" The doctor prodded.

Mac did not respond to the doc, she just kept talking. "He mealy mouthed a statement of his feelings and then he kissed me. AT MY ENGAGEMENT PARTY … My fiancée and his girlfriend were on the other side of the door – not ten feet away – and he …"

"He what?" she waited. "He made you think? Second-guess yourself? He baited you?"

Mac did not respond.

"Did you take the bait, Mac?" the doctor asked. "Is that what made you look like a fool?"

Mac did not respond.

"What happened at the wedding?"

"There was no wedding," Mac shook her head. "The day before – hell the night before – Harm dropped his plane into the ocean – there is a part of me that thinks he did it on purpose."

"On purpose?"

"To stop the wedding," she shook her head. "And I saved his life that night and lost my husband."

The doc laughed. "OK, you will need to explain that."

"I told the searchers where to look -."

"You told them where to look in the middle of the ocean when you were --- how many miles away?"

"I was in Washington at my rehearsal dinner." It sounded silly even to Mac. "I picked the coordinates out on a map."

"How?" the doctor was confused.

"I can't explain it. It doesn't matter, he was found. Anyway my fiancée thought that I because was worried about Harm and wanted to put off the wedding until I knew – until we knew – that he was going to be OK, that I felt more than I did for Harm and he left me."

"Seems odd that your fiancée would just walk away."

"Well he did," Mac's only response was the facts.

"Had he seen the kiss? … Did your fiancée hear this Harm person state his feelings for you? … How long did you want to postpone the wedding for?"

"No, it wasn't – Mic thought he knew something," Mac stated. "What ever Harm said, didn't say or did or didn't do didn't change anything – not for me."

"But it did for … Mic?"

"I just needed a little more time."

"It was you who wanted to postpone the wedding? Because …?"

Nothing from Mac.

"Are you sure that Harm's kiss and statement of his feelings – however 'mealy mouthed' – didn't change anything? You weren't in love with him?"

Mac looked away.

The doctor felt the need to get off this non-wedding issue. "Well one thing is clear – you have feelings for this Harm or he would not be able to get under your skin like he does."

"He claims to be my friend – to care about me AS A FRIEND … family HE SAID … ESSENTIAL in his life – and then he does something like that? Like all the other stunts he has done."

"Like what? Like chase you down to a foreign country and save your life," she smiled. "I don't have too many friends that would do that for me and no one would call that a 'stunt'."

Mac wiped her hands across her face and sat down in a chair on the other side of the room.

"What happened today?"

Mac paused for a moment to get the right words. "He is upset because I didn't tell him about the break up with Webb."

The doctor nodded slowly.

"I didn't tell him because it is none of his business," Mac explained before the doctor could ask. "It has no effect on my relationship with Harm. We are friends."

"If you two are friends, if it has no effect, why not tell him?"

Mac shook her head. She did not want to answer.

"Would he gloat or otherwise rub your nose in your choice – your failed choice? To bait you? To make you look like a fool?"

"Yes," she shook her head and softly added. "And because he would get the wrong idea."

"That being?"

"That I was available." It was out before Mac could check it. If she could have reeled the words back in she would have.

"Interesting."

Mac snapped back at her. "Why is that interesting?"

"Why can't you appear available to a man you have known for years who you consider a friend?"

"Because ..." Mac didn't finish her thought

"Because you aren't available for him?" the doctor again was amused.

"I don't know what you are looking for."

"What happened after the wedding that didn't take place?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing happened? You didn't talk about the kiss or your fiancé leaving?"

"No, well sort of … he needed to be with his girlfriend, her father had died – but they broke up later – not that he was going to tell me that they broke up."

"Is that why you didn't tell him about Clay?"

Mac wanted to end this. "It just never worked out."

"You two never addressed it."

"We agreed it wouldn't work and agreed to go back to being friends."

"Why?"

"A number of reasons."

"In spite of the fact that you were both suddenly available and obviously attracted to each other …"

"You see that is just it – we are attracted to each other but that is not enough. It would never work between us. We work together. It is complicated," the fact that Mac was using Harm's argument from Sydney did not escape her notice.

"Complicated yes, impossible no … not if you love each other."

Mac looked away.

"Are you in love with him, colonel?"

"No," she blurted out too quickly. "I mean, yes, fine – I love him … I may have even been in love with him at one time, but not anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because – it wouldn't work out."

"Why?"

"Harm –," Mac was frustrated. "Harm is the kind of guy who can't deal with his feelings. He can never come out and say something straight and stand by it."

"You might be suffering from that syndrome too."

She shook her head. "Harm either has to ram it down your throat or withhold it and make you beg for it."

"Is he making you beg for it?"

"I want to stop this now," Mac stood up and glared at the doctor. "Harm is not at issue. Neither are his feelings – past and present – for me or mine for him. We are fine and we will be fine. All we need is a little time to work it all out."

"Don't fool yourself into believing that there is always going to be more time, colonel," the doctor warned.

1300 ZULU – Tuesday, May 18, 2004

JAG Headquarters

Fall Church, VA

Harm had been called into the admiral's office. Harm assumed it was something to do with Mac or rather his behavior toward Mac while the admiral was away. He didn't know why he thought that; maybe he was feeling guilty. They had done their best to avoid each other the rest of Friday and Monday but there was business to take care of. Mac was nothing if not professional; sadly the same could not be said for Harm. He was snippy, short, condescending and rude to her. Mac took it all with cold hard stare that told him she was not about to break in spite of his nastiness. She had done nothing wrong; she was not going to apologize. Several people in the office witnessed his behavior and were made to feel uncomfortable - again. Mac would not have said anything to the admiral, but Sturgis or Bud might have. It was probably Coates. Anyway, when Harm got the summons to the admiral's office for earlier than normal office hours, he assumed he was getting called on the carpet. That was what was on his mind; he was totally unprepared for what came next.

"Commander, please sit down," the admiral started. "Thank you for coming in so early."

"Yes, sir," Harm wanted to start the conversation, to say something quickly to defend himself before the admiral had a chance but could think of nothing to say.

"You are aware of the position that the United States has with respect to the ICC."

"The International Criminal Court? Yes sir."

"Well, as much as this administration has no intention of acknowledging the authority of the ICC over the U.S. or its citizens, there is a need to … to respect the world's opinion and to … to be involved in the writing and trying the laws."

"As we found out when the ICC brought charges against the SecNav."

"Exactly," the admiral stood and moved to the window. "A position has been created by the current administration to that end."

"A position, sir?"

"An ambassadorship, attaché if you will – to the ICC from the U.S," the admiral turned toward Harm. "I have been asked to fill that position."

"That is quite an honor, sir," Harm stood up. "Does that mean you will need to leave JAG?"

"I am afraid it does. It is a full time, two year position – that could, of course, be dissolved at any time – particularly considering that there may be a change in the administration in six months or extended indefinitely."

"Yes, sir."

"Still, with all of that, this is too high a profile position for me to not consider seriously," he smiled at Harm. "It will net me another star."

Harm nodded. "Have you, sir? Have you considered it seriously?"

"I have, I have been sitting with this decision for a couple of months."

"Months, sir?"

"I have been on the short list since that incident in January. A decision was finally made and I was offered the job a week ago and just last night I have decided to accept the position."

"They could not have found a better litigator or representative, sir."

"Thank you commander."

"You will be missed at JAG," he continued. "It will be very hard to find someone to fill your shoes."

"I didn't ask you here to suck up, commander."

"No, sir," Harm got a puzzled expression on his face. He felt that some shoe was about to drop.

"Rabb, you and I have not always seen eye to eye."

"No sir," he responded quickly. "But I have always respected you, sir as both a commanding officer and a lawyer."

"Rabb, if you don't shut up, I am going to change my mind."

"Sir?"

"I need a second, commander. I need someone who will challenge me; someone who thinks outside the box," he smiled at him. "No one thinks further outside the box than you do."

"Sir?"

"I get to take two people with me. The first is Carroll O'Lahey – hand picked by the president."

"I know her by reputation, sir. She is considered to be top in international law."

"Exactly. The second person has been left for me to choose. I need someone who also knows military law."

"Sir?"

"You were not the SecNav's first choice – in spite of your recent victory at The Hague, but I would like you to consider going with me."

"Thank you, sir," Harm still was a little taken back. "Why me, sir and not--."

"Not the colonel or Turner?"

"Both fine choices, sir."

"They are, and would serve with distinction. However this position would take the colonel and the commander off their career paths," he looked at him.

"Whereas I need something big to get me back on mine," Harm added.

"As you say commander. You have shot yourself in the foot more than twice – career wise, but for the right cause. So you see we could help each other out. I need some of that passion, that 'damn the torpedoes' attitude. I would welcome your kind of input to this effort."

Harm smiled. "Thank you sir, that is high praise indeed – in light of our history, and my record."

The admiral nodded. He was fully aware of what he was getting himself into. Rabb was not an easy choice to make, but in the end the admiral knew that Harm was actually the only person for this new area of law. He was not someone who was afraid of going into uncharted waters and he had an annoying habit of surviving fates worse than death. That is exactly how he presented it to the SecNav.

"Take a day to consider, commander," the admiral said.

"A day?"

"I know it is not much time. I would have asked you sooner but as you see, I was not sure what I was going to do myself."

"Yes, sir."

"I have to tell you Rabb, the odds of you dropping your six into the pilot seat of an F-14 again are slim if you take this position."

"I would still be in the Navy, correct?"

"Correct."

"There will always be quals sir," he smiled at his boss.

"If anyone could find a way you would, son," the admiral – at times – admired Harm's unwillingness to give up anything for anything else. "It would also involve transferring to the Neitherlands. We report at 0900 on the 24th."

"Of May, sir?" It was all happening a little too quickly.

"Yes. There are meetings we need to prepare for starting June 1 and with the transfer of power in Iraq set for June 30, we need to be up to speed."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Harm said. "You will have my answer by the end of the day. And again sir, let me say how much I appreciate the confidence you have in me and your support."

The admiral nodded. "Dismissed."

Harm snapped to attention, nodded and left.

Harm sought council from no one and weighed only the effect this move would have on his career. With Mattie gone there was nothing personal to consider. It took him all of fifteen minutes to make up his mind, but another sixty to show that he took the opportunity and the responsibility seriously. It took him another four hours before he could get back in to see the admiral.

2345 ZULU – Friday, May 21, 2004

Rabb Residence

North of Union Station

Mac paced in front of Harm's building trying to decide if she was actually going to go in and if so, what it was she wanted to say. They had barely spoken in the past week and in light of recent events – all the recent events – events that had taken place over the last month – hell twelve months – Mac knew that Harm would not come to her. It was her turn to initiate the discussion. But a discussion to what end? To get them back on track? And if so which track?

The dream she had the night before pushed her to go to see him. In her dream, she was again at the controls of an aircraft with Harm in the other seat. This time, however, it was not an F-14, it was SARAH, Harm's Stearman. Again, she was expected to fly and land the plane with no help from Harm. In her dream she was asking – nay pleading for him to do something, give her instructions, take the controls, do something to get them to ground safely. She was not worried about crashing or surviving the crash, she wanted to make a good landing, to impress him, to show him that she cared enough to do it right. He was silent. His silence demonstrated his refusal; a refusal to help, refusal to guide, refusal to say anything at all other than that it was her call. She woke in a cold sweat. It was her call, as it had been since Brumby left, but was it too late to make that call? Harm had made a major decision that would impact them both. Could her call get him to change his mind? And if it could, how much would she have to give up?

All these questions had been spinning around in her head since the admiral made the announcement – dropped the bomb (in Mac's mind) – at the Wednesday staff meeting. Not only was JAG to lose a fine commanding officer, with no replacement named as yet, but also one of the top litigators (also replacement yet to be named). Mac was about to lose her mentor and her surrogate father. That would be hard enough to deal with, but she was also to lose a man she still believed was her friend – her best friend – in spite of his current feelings for her. She was devastated – actually no, she wasn't devastated, she was feeling a loss – a profound loss – and she was uncertain about the future both professionally and personally, but she would survive. She had survived worse in her life. Mac couldn't shake the feeling, the desire, the belief that at her age survival was the least she could expect. Wasn't there more to hope for? Some how she had thought there would be more. That 'something more' forced her to make her way to the outside of Harm's building. What was it going to take to get her to climb the stairs and knock on the door?

Too much, it was all too much. She was going to walk away. There was a send off for the admiral and the commander on Saturday night; they could talk there. They would make nice before he left and in a few months of e-mails and phone calls, they were be back were they were – but with an ocean between them. Mac climbed in her car and turned the engine over. She could not bring herself to put the car in gear and drive away. 'Make nice'? E-mails and phone calls? That was clearly not enough. Nothing good could come if she waited until Saturday night to try to set things right with Harm. Some things needed to be straightened out – in private. She turned off the car, and with marine resolve she marched up the stairs.

Harm was organizing and packing, cleaning out his apartment for his departure. He actually thought about giving up the apartment altogether – making a clean break. He assumed that he would not be back in Washington even if his current assignment terminated early. Washington no longer felt like home. He had no reason to stay and no reason to come back. He came across the paper work for the house he was planning on buying. A wave of regret washed over him as he again realized that he lost something big when Mattie left – he lost a future that he desperately wanted. He had gotten so close to having a home and roots and more than a reason to stay or come back, but it all went up in smoke. How sad that a forty year old man still felt like he had no home and that he had hung his hopes on a fifteen year old girl who he had known for less than a year. It was time to move on.

It was that feeling that led him to accept the admiral's offer. 99% of the decision was based on career goals and living up to his commanding officer's expectations, but the other 1% was personal.

Fact: Mattie was gone and that domestic father-daughter goal was gone with her.

Fact: He was single and unencumbered – now was the time to make that kind of move. A few weeks prior, he would have given the admiral a different answer. A few weeks prior and the admiral probably would not have asked.

Fact: Mac would never look at him as anything other than a friend – worse a friend to be kept at arm's length. At the moment – and for the last two years – no other woman was 'desirable' to him. In order to move on, he needed to physically move away, to get her out of his system.

He was no longer angry with Mac and only slightly angry with himself. In a rare moment of clarity and honesty, he had to admit to himself that Mac needed to keep him at arm's length because his boundaries were messy. In other words it was not her fault; it was his. For all his protestations of friendship and support, he had been holding out hope that she would eventually turn to him; that her statement of 'never' was not true. He was wrong. The break up with Webb – rather her non-disclosure of the break up with Webb – was proof of that. She couldn't tell him because that would mean that her door was open again – but it wasn't, at least not to him. Ultimately that was the insult Harm felt and took out on her; her door was open but not to him – never to him. He was angry – at first - that she didn't know how to say 'no' but the reality was he did not know how to hear it. When that revelation came, he knew it was time to leave before any more damage could be done – to them and to him, rather his ego. They could be friends again – in time – so long as they had an ocean between them. When and how would the 'make up' occur? Harm figured it would be via e-mail months from then. He was OK with that. If he could just slip out of town without another altercation with her, he would be safe – rather his ego would be safe, and their relationship might actually survive.

A knock came on the door. He was half expecting it and half fearing it. He knew that Mac would have something to say, but hoped that she would be wise enough not to push it. That she would let time heal this latest wound too, and eventually all would be well.

The knock came again. He resolved to not fight with her. It was Mac's turn to have the final word and frankly he was going to let her have it. Not 'let her have it' but let her have the last word. He had made his share of mistakes in the course of the time they had known each other, and God knows he had hurt her too. How could he be angry with her for not wanting the same thing he wanted? How could he ever really fault her for backing away from him? How could he be angry with her for not loving him they way he loved her? Wow … he had loved her. He actually – in his head – used the word and it meant more than friendship. No, he couldn't and shouldn't be angry with her – but he damn sure wasn't going to stick around to be come nothing to her.

The knock came again. The third knock revived his irritation. He would not have sought her out at this time. He hoped he could keep his anger in check, because if he couldn't it would be directed at Mac whether he wanted it or not. There were times when Harm's passionate, egotistical, condescending side really got in the way of his better judgment.

"It's open," he called from behind the desk.

Mac entered. It took her a moment to find him sorting through papers on the floor.

"What brings you by?" he said casually.

"I thought we needed to talk," she said slowly.

"Did you?"

"Didn't you?"

He exhaled and resigned the fate of the meeting. "Why not?" he pulled himself to standing. "Can I get you something? Water? Tea?" he walked past her to the kitchen and mumbled under his breath, "Another knife for my back?"

She heard him. She had no idea which Harm she was going to see that night when she climbed the stairs, but she had a pretty good idea with that comment. "Water is fine."

He pulled two bottles of water out of the fridge and roughly tossed her one. "So?" he said snidely.

"Congratulations on your new assignment," she started tentatively. "Quite the coup."

"Yours too," Mac was going to be acting JAG until the admiral was replaced.

"Yes, but yours will bring your name up to some very influential people," she nodded. "You'll make captain in no time."

He laughed. "Is that a good thing?"

"For you, yes it is," she laughed.

Harm chuckled, "Times they are a changing."

"The more things change, the more they stay the same," she offered gently.

"I have never understood that concept," he said.

"Bumper sticker philosophy," she stated.

"I guess." He smirked at her. "But regardless of what changes and what stays the same, you will always come out on top, colonel."

She felt the sting, and thought about just ending the interview then, but something made her stay. "You and I both know how to land on our feet, commander."

"Yes we do," he looked down. "Like a couple of alley cats."

She paused for a moment before she made her next statement. "Can we stop this?"

"Stop what?"

"Stop ignoring the elephant in the room and address it."

"Which elephant is that, Mac?" It was a valid question in Harm's mind. There were a whole heard of elephants in the room.

"How about we start with the reason why you are so angry with me," she tossed back to him.

"I am not angry, Mac," he leaned on a barstool. "Just disappointed."

"Why?"

"Disappointed with myself," he shook his head. "My bad, my mistake, mea culpa. I'll figure it out."

"Don't do that Harm," she asked nicely, "talk to me."

He shook his head and smiled. "It was totally my misunderstanding, Mac. I overreacted."

"But you won't tell me the what and why."

"You know the what and why, Mac," he pleaded. "Don't make me look like a bigger fool for trying to explain it."

"But you are willing to toss away a friendship – a hard won friendship over YOUR misunderstanding."

"I am not throwing anything away," he said. "I'm sorry. Ok?"

She felt the sand slipping from under her feet. "So you still consider me a friend."

"More than – you are family."

"Essential," she added quickly. "You told me that I was essential in your life."

He nodded. "And you are."

She knew she was getting nowhere. He was going to pretend that nothing was wrong – at least nothing permanently wrong. "But you would walk away without one glance backward."

"I am taking a position that will make or break my career – that had nothing to do with you or us," he explained.

"But you are walking away – you must own that – and walking away angry."

"Not forever," he looked away. "Just until I get some perspective. We'll always be friends, Mac."

"With an ocean separating us?"

"What does an ocean have on friendship – as good a friendship as we have had?" he asked.

She looked away.

"Come on Mac. In no time we would have been filling each other's e-mail boxes and taxing those long distance air waves," he smiled.

"Damn it, Harm," she snapped at him. "Don't do this."

"What? Don't do what?"

His feigned ignorance had finally gotten to her. She looked away. "Fine."

"Fine?" he asked. "What is fine?"

"So we are friends, and you will leave to fulfill a career goal, and we will talk on the phone and send e-mails and maybe – if luck would have it – we would be in the same town at the same time and do lunch or dinner … every couple of years or so."

"You make it sound so cold and dry," he said.

She nodded. That was how it felt – cold and dry.

"Who knows what tomorrow will bring, Mac?"

"More bumper sticker philosophy," she shook her head. She was not going to let his cavalier, unaffected, casual attitude shake her from the one thing she wanted to say. "I will miss you, Harm," she said with tears in her voice. "I have missed you for a long time."

He didn't say anything, but could not look her in the eye.

"I thought we were finally getting back to the point where we were."

"Yeah, well…"

"And I am sorry that we will lose that."

He thought for a long moment before he spoke. "Too much has changed," he said sadly. "Too much has stayed the same."

She nodded her agreement. "I guess so," she moved toward the door.

"Mac, you know that if you need anything, I am a phone call away."

She nodded. "Same goes for you."

He nodded and moved toward the door to show her out.

Mac opened the door and looked around the apartment. "Still no plants you need watering, huh?"

"Mattie left me a chiapet, but it is still in the box," he flashed her that grin.

"Right," she turned to leave.

"Mac," he stopped her. "Take care of yourself, huh?"

"Yeah," she nodded; the tears were streaming down. "You too."

"Hey," he wiped them gently away. "No way for a marine to behave."

"I am more than a marine, Harm."

"I know."

He pulled her to him in a friendly embrace. He could no longer look in her eyes. His eyes closed and he ordered the muscles in his arms tense to pull her closer, but they disobeyed. She returned the embrace. A moment longer and he would have not been able to fight the desire to kiss her.

She pulled back. "One more 'goodbye', eh Harm?"

"How about good luck?" he gave her a weak smile.

"Yeah," she walked away from him without looking back.

He stood listening to her footfalls going down the stairs and he heard the door close on the first floor. In the distance he heard her car start, and drive away.

"Go after her," he heard a voice say.

"Don't do it," said another. He stepped back into his apartment and closed the door.

0356 ZULU – Saturday, May 22, 2004

McMurphy's Tavern

The send off for AJ and Harm was restricted to JAG personnel only. There were speeches and well wishes, but on the whole it looked like any other Saturday night with the JAG crew. Everyone showed, but Harm lost track of Mac very early. Harm was reluctant to leave the party; he was hoping she would come back and that they would have one more opportunity to speak. But as time wore on, he was glad he could slip away without another … test – a test he had no intention of failing, but one that he did not want to take.

He skipped his goodbyes and goodnights and left quietly convincing himself that they would all see each other again soon.

Mac was leaning against Harm's car; he spotted her immediately. He approached tentatively. She was stunning in her summer dress. Her hair was perfect and her makeup was understated as usual. She took his breath away.

"Mac," he said tentatively. "Thought you left."

"No you didn't," she said slowly with no quiver or shake in her voice at all. She was confident and strong.

"Thank you for coming," he looked away to unlock his car.

She stepped into the street to allow him the freedom to leave, if that was what he wanted to do.

"Zero Six Hundred is going to come awful early," he said.

She said nothing but was looking at him intently.

"Take care of yourself, colonel," he said to finish this last tête-à-tête.

She made no reply.

"Alright," he was disappointed that she had nothing to say and started to get into his car.

"Don't go." She said softly.

He turned back to look at her and cocked his head to wait for her to say what she had said again.

"Don't go," she repeated with more force.

"A little late for this now, don't you think?" he was not impressed that she waited to make her feelings known, if that was indeed what she was doing then.

"Not too late, not yet," she said again, "don't go."

He leaned against his car and took her in. A beautiful woman, whom he had loved more than his words or his mind would let him acknowledge was asking him not to leave. Was it for the moment, for the night, or for good? That was the question. It would have been so easy to step into her and take what she was offering – what he assumed she was offering – with no words exchanged, no explanations, nothing defined. It should have been so easy – an embrace, a kiss and … giving up his career again – for what, exactly? Nope, he was not going to do that again – not for no reason.

"I've got to go," he said.

"Don't go," she said one more time.

"Give me a reason," he heard himself say with not as much cock as the words alone would appear.

Mac's mouth went dry. The words stuck in her throat. She could not force them out. She could not move her legs or wave her arms to let him know that she was trying to speak. She was caught like a deer in headlights. She didn't expect that he would demand a reason. He should know the reason.

He nodded sadly. "That's what I thought," he turned again to climb into his car.

"Don't go," the words came as clear as a bell with the force of an order.

"Mac," he shook his head and looked away. It was not enough.

"We had a deal, commander," she said before he had a chance to get in. "You aren't going to welch on a promise, are you?"

Harm turned back to Mac, the keys fell from his hand. Their eyes locked. His expression was unreadable; hers was intent. Had she found her voice? Was he still open to hear what she had to say?

Consider this as the END OF SEASION CLIFFHANGER --- next chapter as the Next Season Opener.


	8. 08

Title: **Switching Tracks**

Chapter Eight

By: LizD

Spoilers: Alternate Ending to Season Nine – Spoilers Through The Death of Sadik

Notes: Written before the last five shows of Season Nine Aired

Written: April/May 2004

**Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.**

Switching Tracks – Part Eight

This Landing is TOO SOFT

"We had a deal, commander," Mac said before he had a chance to get in the car. "You aren't going to welch on a promise, are you?"

"I haven't yet," he said after a moment. "Marry me."

"Yes," she smiled broadly.

"Tonight?" he asked.

"Right now," she confirmed.

"Good."

"What about the ICC?"

"We'll figure it out," he flashed his grin.

"I love you," her eyes were wet with joy.

"I love you," he stepped toward her and they kissed.

"So what was so hard about that?" she asked.

"At the moment, I can't think of a thing."

They fold into an embrace, then another kiss … then hand in hand they walked off into the sunset … well actually the sun has already set … but let's assume a sunset … and lived happily ever after.

This Landing is TOO Hard

"We had a deal, commander," Mac said before he had a chance to get in the car. "You aren't going to welch on a promise, are you?"

"It would be a first … but I am done being yanked around by you, colonel."

"HA," she spit back at him. "If there is any yanking being done, you are the yanker and I am the yankee."

"I don't know why I ever thought it could work between us," he picked up his keys.

"I never did."

"Good – we finally agree on something," he climbed into his car. "Good bye Mac."

"Good riddance, Harm."

Harm drove off into the night and Mac felt lighter than she had in years.

This Landing Feels About Right … Considering

2256 EST – Saturday, May 22, 2004

Outside McMurphy's Tavern

"Don't go." Sarah MacKenzie said one more time.

"Give me a reason," Harm heard himself say.

Mac's mouth went dry. The words stuck in her throat. She could not force them out. She could not move her legs or wave her arms to let him know that she was trying to speak. She was caught like a deer in headlights. She didn't expect that he would demand a reason. He should know the reason.

He nodded sadly. "That's what I thought," he turned again to climb into his car.

"Don't go." The words came as clear as a bell with the force of an order.

"Mac," he shook his head and looked away. It was not enough.

"We had a deal, commander," she said before he had a chance to get in. "You aren't going to welch on a promise, are you?"

Harm turned back to Mac, the keys fell from his hand. Their eyes locked. His expression was unreadable; hers was intent. Had she found her voice? Was he still open to hear what she had to say?

What had gotten into Mac? It was so unlike her to be so forward, so bold. What was she doing? Asking him not to go, baiting him with the baby deal? What was going on in her mind? What had changed for her?

The answer was quite a bit. She had gone home from Harm's apartment the night prior and paced.

Fact: Harm was leaving.

Fact: She didn't want to lose him in her life.

Fact: If she let him leave with the way things were between them, they would never find their way back to anything resembling a friendship, much less anything else.

Well that last one was more of an opinion, but a well-founded opinion based on Mac's experience.

Why was Mac so wound up about it? Why did she care? Yeah, Harm had been a good friend, a trusted colleague and a worthy adversary for years. She had gotten used to him and all his facets. He was familiar. But he had also been a thorn in her side; a snide, mean-spirited (at times), arrogant man who would just as soon make her the butt of a joke as take her to dinner. He was the epitome of an oxymoron – well some kind of moron.

"Who is Harmon Rabb to you?" Dr. Madden's question started running through her head,

She got so worked up pacing her apartment; she had to run. She ran / walked / jogged for hours. She wore herself out – so much so that her normal self-defensive logic reflex had shut down. Then her mind started allowing all kinds of thoughts to enter, thoughts she normally guarded against. It was full of the eight years of Harmon Rabb.

"Who is Harmon Rabb to you, Mac?" she finally asked herself.

"He is my … my friend," she answered.

"What else?"

"He is ... my colleague ... my motivation … my adversary ... my companion ... my comrade ... my hero ... my advisor ... my ally ... my … my … my... my would-be-lover ... the object my desire."

Really? Object of desire, eh? Motivation?

He was her motivation and that motivation was fueled by her desire. Most of the actions she took over the past several years were in some way wrapped up with her feelings for Harm from the thousand or so work related issues to the men in her life:

Mic Brumby: Would she have accepted his ring and pursued a relationship to the edge of marriage if Harm had not turned her down? What if Mac had never approached Harm? What if she never offered and he never refused, how would that have changed what happen with Mic? Would Mac have been so willing to accept him, if she were not stinging from that blow to her ego? What if she still held out hope that Harm would turn his feelings toward her, how would that have changed her reaction to Mic?

Clayton Webb: Why did she turn to Clay? The honest to God answer was that Harm had again removed himself from the game and she needed someone to keep her connected to the world after that horrific experience. Their bickering in Paraguay was wretched and hurtful. She had long since owned her share (probably more than her share) of that mess, but the worse part was when they got back to the real world and Harm 'disappeared.' Mac needed time to process everything that had happened to her from Clay's protest of love and protection to Harm's sacrifice and heroism. She needed time and for the first time since they had known each other, Harm was not there to give it to her. For the first time she told him to go, and he left. Why did he do that?

"Who is Harmon Rabb to you, Mac?"

That was the wrong question; the right question was "who do you want Harmon Rabb to be to you?"

That Saturday night Mac made up her mind. She could not let him remove himself from her life again. She needed him. She wanted him. She loved him. She would do whatever it took … including something like call in the promise made to each other in better times.

"We had a deal, commander," she said before he had a chance to get in. "You aren't going to welch on a promise, are you?"

Harm turned back to Mac, the keys fell from his hand. Their eyes locked. His expression was unreadable; hers was intent.

Harm broke eye contact first and reached down to retrieve his keys.

"Did you hear me?" she asked since her voice was under her command again.

"I heard you, colonel – I just can't believe you would stoop so low."

"Harm, I am not -."

"You play to my reputation, my honor, my integrity," he stated. "Do you really think so little of me?"

"Think so little!" She was shocked. She had just reminded him that they promised to have a baby together. How is that 'thinking little'? "Do you know what I am talking about?" she continued. "What promise I am referring to?"

"I know exactly what you are talking about, Mac," he shook his head. "And if you think that I would follow though with that now – you're out of your mind."

"But -," she protested.

"Good luck, commander." Tiner called from across the parking lot.

"Thank you, Tiner," he called back. "Good luck to you, too," Harm looked back at Mac. He could tell that she was edgy and nervous in spite of the fact that she remained at a near attention. "You disappoint me, Mac."

"I don't understand," her voice cracked; her marine resolve had been broken.

He shook his head. "Maybe we do need to talk – before I go – there are some things you need to know … to understand."

"Harm?"

"With me colonel," he ordered as he climbed into the car.

Mac stood motionless; she had no idea what she was supposed to do.

"Mac, get in the car," he ordered again.

She moved slowly to the other side of the car and got in. Her mind was revving at 9000 rpms. Did she push too hard? Had she played the highest trump card too soon? Had she blown her last chance?

2315 EST – Saturday, May 22, 2004

Rabb Residence

North of Union Station

Harm let Mac precede him into his apartment. Three suitcases stood ready and waiting to go by the door; sheets covered the furniture. He pulled the one off the couch and motioned for her to sit down. She did as she was instructed to do.

The car ride home was silent, each in their own thoughts, in their own heads, dealing with their own agendas. Soon – very soon, these agendas would be addressed – or at least some of them.

Harm sat on the coffee table in front of her. It took him another long moment to find the words he was looking for.

With a deep breath and a too-late-to-turn-back-now attitude, he spoke. "Here is how I see it, Mac," he said gently. "You want things to stay the same … I need things to change."

She looked down. He was right; or at least close to right. But wouldn't a baby change things?

Harm continued. "You want to keep me at a safe distance, not too close, not too far away."

She did not attempt to argue; she would hear him out.

"I can't do that anymore," he gave a sad smile. "I can't stay at arm's length any more."

"So you need to move to the other side of the world?" she asked.

"Location doesn't change who we are, Mac. What we are – to each other." Again that argument from Sydney, however this time Mac had the feeling that the 'who' and 'what' were much more meaningful.

"You are talking about emotional distance," she stated.

"Yeah, I suppose," he acknowledged not trying to define it. "The reason we never got any closer was because of you."

"Me?"

"You. It has been your call since Brumby left."

"Harm, that's not fair," she shook her head.

"Mac, this is how I see it," he stopped her. "You can agree or disagree, but please … let me say what I have to say."

She nodded.

"In light of everything we have been through this past year, bringing up the baby deal … us having a baby … that was low Mac, especially for you."

She looked down.

He pulled her chin back up so she would look him in the eyes. "First of all bringing it up when I have less than six hours before I leave … talk about waiting until one foot was out the door."

She nodded. She knew it was a desperate act.

"If we did … make that deal … you would have locked us – and the baby – into to that arm's length for life."

"I didn't think …"

"No, that was clear," he said quickly. "So I won't hold it against you, but for the sake of anything we ever were to each other ... our friendship –."

"Harm, I don't want you to go," she said softly. "I don't want us to end like this."

"Mac, you have to understand … I can't stay … I can't be this close to you …Close enough to touch you…To look in your eyes … and …and be kept so far away … so out of reach … not anymore … I can't." He leaned toward her and his voice got very soft and very gentle. "I want so much more … to be so much closer … to be near you … next to you … with you … to love you … to make love with you … to spend my life with you … to have a houseful of kids, if that is what you want," he's eyes were tearing up.

Her breath caught in her throat and her heart started to pound.

"How can you expect me … Sarah … how can you ask me to accept so much less than I am willing to give?"

She leaned into him expecting him to kiss her.

He pulled her into an embrace. He could not kiss her. "I can't, Mac," he whispered, his voice starting to crack.

Mac felt his pain, his frustration. She almost understood why he needed to go, and why he never approached her before. He was as afraid as she was of being refused. After a moment, she pulled away from him, got up and moved away. He took her seat on the couch and waited for her to speak.

"How long have you felt this way?" she asked calmly.

He laughed a little. "Who knows? … A long time."

"Why didn't you say anything to me?" she asked though she knew the answer.

"I thought you knew."

"Not good enough, Harm," she was not about to let him get away with another mealy mouth protestation or a deflection of his responsibility in their mess. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried … God knows, I tried," he looked down. "The timing was never right."

"Timing? Is that your defense?"

He looked up at her. "You never seemed to want to hear it."

That was the truth she was looking for. She nodded and averted her eyes.

"Can you blame me?" she asked after a moment.

He shook his head. No, he didn't blame her. There was enough fault and blame to go around.

She added in her defense. "I would have to say that I felt stiff armed by you too."

"Where did you get that?" he leaned back.

"Should I cite the thousand caustic or evasive remarks you gave every time we got close?" she gave him the biggest example. "The entire time we were in Paraguay?"

He nodded; at the moment he didn't remember anything he had said that was caustic or evasive – at least not verbatim, but he would grant her point.

"We are quite a pair, aren't we?" she said.

"Can't seem to get out of our own way," he agreed.

"So what do we do now?"

He paused to consider. "We can't go back to the beginning," he said. "Been there, done that."

They were silent for a while. "Harm, about what I said … about the deal… I'm sorry -."

"Forget it," he waved her off.

"I don't want to forget it," she said. "I mean I don't want to forget that it hurt you … the way I brought it up."

Harm didn't respond.

"I was desperate," she explained. "I didn't know how else to keep you in my life."

"I am SO SORRY you couldn't think of another way." The snide was back in his voice.

She looked at him in disbelief. "You think it is because I don't … because I …" She couldn't find the right words.

"Exactly," he was in full Rabb mode again.

"No. No. Not 'exactly'," she snapped back at him. "You can't possible know what I was thinking or was going to say. I didn't know myself."

"So … tell me Mac," he shot back at her. "Tell me what it is that I don't know … exactly."

"You think that I am not in love with you."

He shrugged like that was obvious.

"You couldn't be more wrong," she stated. "I do love you, Harm. God help me, I do. And I want to be with you."

"But?" he could not stop himself from trying to prove a point.

"But you make it impossible," she snapped.

"Back to my stiff arming … my evasive … caustic and evasive comments?"

"Kind of like that attitude you have right now," she glared back at him.

"Point taken," he stood down.

She was silent for a moment.

"What happened with Webb?" he asked.

"Do you want to gloat?"

"No, I really want to know," he was very earnest.

"We didn't want the same things from the relationship," she answered as truthfully as she could without giving too much information.

"Was it your idea or his?"

"I started the conversation and we agreed."

Harm laughed a little. "Something we rarely do."

She nodded sadly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

She paused for a moment before answering. "It's complicated."

"How complicated?"

"If I really wanted to be honest," She took a deep breath. "I would have to say I didn't tell you because I couldn't take the chance of you turning away from me again." That right there was more truth than she had allowed herself since this last mess with Harm began. She didn't want to appear available to him, and then not have him make a move.

"Did you really think that would happen?" he tried to keep the patronizing tone out of his voice, but he didn't do a very good job.

"Harm, with you nothing is written in stone," she moved to the window and looked out on to the night. She was silent for a long time.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I was actually thinking about something my shrink asked me."

"Your shrink?"

Mac turned to him. "She asked about you. 'Who is Harmon Rabb to you?'" Mac laughed a little as she mocked Dr. Maddens' voice. She turned back to him and smiled. "You were the subject of our last meeting; your ears must have been frying off."

"What was your answer?" Harm asked.

"I didn't give her one," she smiled. "Oh, I said something. I said a lot of something … but I am not sure how much of it made sense and how much of it was motivated by anger."

"You were mad at me?" he was amused.

"Furious," she confirmed.

He took guilty pleasure in knowing that he was able to rile her. "So why didn't you answer her?"

She took a deep breath in and out. "I didn't want to focus on who you were to me rather than who I wanted you to be."

"And who is that?" he prodded.

She spoke slowly and let each role be heard and acknowledged. "My friend … my support … my partner in life … father of my children … the man I would grow old with."

He was blown away … and confused. Nothing that he had been thinking for the past twenty-four, forty-eight hours – heck the past several months, nay years was validated during the conversation. The words were right and the sentiment was real, but something was wrong. She had answered his hopes but not his fears. How could he have been so wrong for so long? If she loved him and he loved her – why weren't they together? Why was it so difficult? How could there have been so many misunderstandings for so long?

"How long have you felt that way?" he asked when he could.

"Honestly?" she asked. "I don't know … I think I only admitted most of that to myself this morning … but the feeling doesn't feel new," she looked over at him. "I have loved you forever," was her final answer.

He looked disappointed, not with what she said but the fact that it was said too late. They were quiet for a long time.

Mac finally broke the silence. "So again I ask, now what do we do?"

He shook his head. Something was not right. How could two people who have known each other for so long, been so wrong about the other? It made no sense; at least not to him. Part of him wanted to take her in his arms and stop all the talking – they apparently didn't know how to communicate verbally; they should try something else. But the larger part – the rational part of him felt that to stop the talking could only lead to more misunderstandings. He needed time to think, they needed time to process.

He stood up and approached her. "We say goodbye – for now."

"What? Goodbye?" she was crushed.

"Mac, I am getting on a plane in less than five hours," he waved toward his luggage to show that he was packed and ready to go.

"You are still going?"

"Of course I am," he stated surprised that he had to. "You knew I would."

Of course she did. "What about us?"

"Us?" he smiled thinking that almost a year ago she had declared that there never would be an 'us' and now she was begging to keep it. "I think we need some time, some distance to sort through all this … it is too hot, too raw right now … we need a lot of talk before we do anything … make any kind of change … maybe we can be honest with each other on the phone or in e-mails."

"Drop the stiff arm because there is an ocean between us?" she helped him explain.

"Some thing like that."

She looked away. "This is not at all how I thought this conversation would go."

He laughed at her. "What did you think; that you would bring up the baby deal and I would change my life to accommodate?"

She realized how silly it sounded. "Well I certainly didn't think we would walk into the sunset and live happily ever after."

"That would have been too easy," he agreed. "And certainly not in our pattern."

"Not at all," she reached out and took his hand. "I will miss you."

"I'll miss you," he smiled. "I'll call."

"I know. But I will miss you," she laughed. "I'll even miss your caustic evasive remarks."

He smiled. "Not going to have a personality transplant Mac," he walked her into the hallway and rang for the elevator.

She turned to face him and words failed her.

His insides were screaming and it was hard for him to maintain control. He couldn't believe he was letting her leave. He couldn't believe he was going to get on a plane that took him more than 3000 miles away from her. He was acting under the orders from his head; every other part of his body was reluctantly obeying.

The elevator arrived. He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips – anything more would have been too hard to stop.

He pulled away, but she followed. She was not willing to let him go without something to motivate him to come back. She kissed him with a desire to make him understand … make him feel … make him remember the depths of her feelings for him. He did. He understood, he felt, he would remember, he would be back.

She looked up into his eyes and saw her love returned. It was enough, for the moment. She smiled sadly and stepped into the elevator.

The moment the doors were closed, Harm lost all strength in his legs. He leaned against the wall. His mind was spinning. Should he stay? Should he go? Should he chase after her? He had her. She was there. She was his, if only he had reached out and taken what he wanted – for once. The internal struggle was becoming too much, he was going to need to act. Chase her down? Run away together? To hell with duty and responsibilities. What about his duty and responsibility to himself? To her? Something, he was going to need to do something. There was nothing he could do. He would leave at the appointed time and if with any luck they might be able to figure it out – in time.

He turned to head back into his apartment.

The elevator doors opened again. She was standing there. She was tentative, nervous, insecure. He had done that to her. He had dissolved that marine resolve. In two quick strides he had her in his arms. His mouth was on her and the audible sighs were increasing his desire. She wanted him. She had come back for this – came back for him – came back for them. He swept her up and carried her to his bed – not caring about any thing else – not the past, not the future, not his duty. The only thing on his mind was her – right there, right then, the only two people in the world who existed, who mattered at all, were in his bed. The only agenda on the table was the physical expression of love given and received. Planes that had to be caught, misunderstandings that had to be ironed out, futures to plan – would all have to wait while these two lovers became one.

Later, Mac lay securely in his arms making lazy circles with her fingertips on his chest. He was not sleeping, but his eyes were closed. He was savoring in the closeness and the utter completeness he felt. The view to the past and the hope for the future was morphing and changing with each moment. Words – spoken and unspoken, actions – taken and not taken were all taking on a new meaning in his mind.

"I'm glad you came back," he said softly, probably the first full sentence uttered in hours.

"I had to," she kissed his chest and pulled herself closer to him. "My car is at McMurphy's," she giggled like a woman in love.

He pushed her back on the bed and leaned over her and suggestively said, "That is the only reason you came back?"

"You didn't expect me to walk home at that time of night, did you?"

"I can honestly say right now – I have no idea what to expect from you."

"We surprised each other then?"

"I'll say," he leaned down and kissed her.

She tried to maintain the kiss but he pulled away.

"Sarah, I have to go."

"I know," she pouted. "But not this minute."

"Soon," he tried to make her smile.

"Not that soon," she leaned up and kissed him trying to contain her sly smile.

"Not that soon," he echoed.

0558 EST - Sunday, May 23, 2004

Andrews Air Force Base

Military Transport to Europe

Harm jumped on the plane with literally two minutes to spare. In spite of his lateness and his obvious lack of sleep he seemed in rather a good mood.

"Commander," the admiral nodded to Harm as he strapped himself in. "Nice of you to join us."

"Yes, sir," Harm couldn't take the chance of saying anything more, he felt for sure that he would shout from the roof tops that he GOT THE GIRL – and no one really wanted to hear that kind of information particularly not his commanding officer.

"Didn't see you leave the party last night," the admiral goaded.

"Cut out early, sir," he said. "I had some more packing to do."

"Right." The admiral smiled at him and turned the page of his newspaper. He didn't look up as he asked the next question. "Did the colonel make it home alright?"

OH MY GOD … Harm was caught. How did that happen? "Sir?" Pretending not to hear the question might have worked if it were any other admiral.

"Yes, Colonel Mackenzie? Her car was in the parking lot when I left, but no one had seen her for hours. Did she get to where she was going?"

Harm was thinking quickly. "Yes, sir," Harm could not contain his smile and looking out the port side window did not hide it from the admiral.

The admiral's face broke into a grin that he kept behind the sports. "Very well."

Harm nodded his agreement. Yes, it was very well indeed.

0603 EST

Rabb Residence

North of Union Station

Mac slowly drew to wakefulness. She knew that he was gone, but if she kept her eyes closed she could still pretend he was holding her for just a little longer. She stretched out to his side of the bed and felt the box and the note that he had left for her.

A box? She opened her eyes. It was the Chiapet that Mattie had given him. She could not help but smile.

The note read:

_Sarah –_

_Didn't have the heart to wake you; I was running late enough as it was._

_Water my plant for me, would you? _

_I'll call. I'll write. I'll see you in my dreams. I'll be back._

_Love, Harm_

_PS: Sorry about breakfast – I owe you. Love, H_

_PPS: I guess I owe you a taxi ride too – left the number and the cash by the phone (don't take that wrong). H_

She leaned back on the bed and felt a little disappointed. She wasn't expecting Byron or Wordsworth – but would it have killed him to write the words down?

There was writing on the back of the note that she had not noticed before.

_PPSS: I didn't believe it was possible, but you are more beautiful when you sleep. I have been privileged and honored to know you as a friend and colleague. I am the luckiest SOB to know you the way I do this morning. If it had to take us those eight years of misunderstandings to get us to where we are, I wouldn't have traded one minute of it. I love you, Sarah – believe it. _

_Harm. _

She pulled his pillow close to her chest. "I love you too, Harm," she said to the empty room.

Ok kids … there you go. Harm and Mac are on the way. Ya know, they might make it to that sunset after all.

Thanks for reading.

LD


End file.
